Sentience
by Imarra Pendaran
Summary: The crew of the Enterprise is asked to hunt down members of an anti-Federation rebellion only to discover things are not as they appear. Will a new crew member upset the dynamic and rattle Bones' comfort zone? BonesXOC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: 1.) Obviously I don't own anything in Star Trek. 2.) Let me know if I'm overusing curse words, especially with Bones. 3.) I am extremely open to constructive criticism. If there's something you think could have been done better, do let me know. I will not take it personally unless you're cursing it at me.

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Chapter 1

Silence. A sphere of nothingness surrounded Ritha as she curled into a fetal position and covered her head with her arms to protect her vital areas. Silence bled into a high-pitched ringing in her ears that bled into a backwash of sound as though all noise on the engineering deck of the Enterprise was being sucked through a breech in the hull into the eerie quiet of space. Screams of engineers pinned beneath the wreckage of machines or in the direct path of the nutonium spewing from a cracked engine block exploded through the backwash of noise until her head was threatening to split in half.

Then there was the sound everyone on the engineering deck most dreaded as someone cried "Scotty's down!" Her heart was like the hooves of the Budweiser Clydesdales on parade down a paved road as she uncurled herself and rolled up onto her knees to scramble for the intercom that had direct access to Sickbay.

"We need medical teams in engineering. Scotty has been hit by leaking nutonium, and we have casualties."

"Evasive maneuvers!" Somehow, Captain Kirk's voice penetrated the chaos of engineering as people raced to try to get the systems back online. "Scotty, we need more power. Divert all auxiliary power to our forward shields. Sound the general evacuation of all living quarters and pump that energy into our impulse drive."

"Scotty isn't here!" she shouted again since the captain obviously hadn't heard it the first dozen times it had been shouted or simply had too much going on to process that engineering had taken a direct hit that had put its CO out of commission.

Metal groaned against metal when the Enterprise lurched starboard, causing damaged braces to buckle under the stress. A series of catwalks gave way and crashed into the engine block with enough force to break the mountings holding it to the floor. Ritha shouted until her throat was raw for people to get out of the way, but there simply wasn't enough time for men and women to move before the block toppled over, crushing half a dozen engineers beneath its weight and splitting the nutonium reservoir. Chemicals spilled across the floor in a wave that burned anyone it came in contact with.

Panic was right there on the edge of overwhelming her like bile that was sloshing around where the interior ends of the clavicles almost touched. Moving wrong seemed as though it would send her into a non-functional state. Ritha gouged her fingers through her short hair and tried to think of what to do and how to give Kirk the power he needed to keep the Enterprise from being blown out of deep space.

"Get as many wounded into the decompression chambers as you can!" shouted Bones when he came running onto the main floor of engineering with a team of medical officers.

Right. The decompression chambers. They would protect the wounded from the nutonium and its corresponding gasses. "You heard him! And put your oxygen masks on so this shit doesn't burn your lungs."

Yanking a mask out of Scotty's main console, she dodged around scurrying engineers to make it to their downed CO. He was bleeding heavily from a gash on his forehead, had sustained burns on most of his face and chest, and his right arm was bent awkwardly. Ritha gently tugged the mask over his face to protect his lungs from the nutonium and then turned an expectant glance to Doctor McCoy. He was Doctor McCoy! How many times had the entire crew heard that he was capable of fixing anything with little more than a roll of duct tape and a hypospray?!

Bones crouched next to Scotty and whipped out his dreaded hypospray to pop the Scotsman in the neck and said, "I'll take care of him. Now, get back to your station."

Her fingers curled in the material of Scotty's uniform shirt. "I don't know what to do," she admitted in a voice that was barely heard over the cacophony.

"Do your job," he responded. Steady, blue eyes bored into her for all of two seconds before he returned his attention to Scotty.

"Engineering, where's that power?!" Kirk shouted over the intercom again.

"It's hiding inside my anal cavity, because dragging it out of my ass is pretty much what you're asking me to do!"

"Scotty's had a lot more clutter than just power hiding in his ass, so get to yanking, Ensign Monroe, and do what you're being paid to do," Bones snarked.

They were all fucking nuts. There were more nuts on this ship than a damned peanut farm on Planet Cashew in the Pecan Galaxy. Ritha shoved to her feet and tore across engineering to return to the main console that had miraculously survived the collapsing catwalks. The captain wanted power. Well, she had one suggestion for him; get every female crew member currently on the rag hooked up to the engines via conductor cable and take away their chocolate. Wait, that might overload the engines and cause an explosion.

A few taps on the touch screen console diverted power from the living quarters to the shield generators. Power from the holodeck and other entertainment facilities was sent to the engines to increase the speed of the impulse drive, but if the captain wanted more power than that, he'd have to suck a rotten egg and blow on the ship systems.

"You've got every single ounce of spare power on this ship, Captain. Use it wisely. You lot, once you're through moving the wounded, break out the mini generators. Put three of them on the engine and another two on the environmental systems."

The last thing they needed was for the environmental systems to crash and stop producing oxygen and filtering carbon monoxide. All the fires breaking out on the ship were going to be a serious drain on their oxygen levels. Speaking of fires, Ritha grabbed up a welding kit, strapped the power pack onto her belt, and fired up the torch while running for a buckled door that had part of a catwalk lodged against it. Trying to cut the catwalk away would be stupid and time-consuming, so she climbed under it and started burning a hole in the door itself that quickly granted her access to the containers of fire retardant and neutralizing foam for the spilled nutonium.

Another dangerous lurch of the ship sent her sliding into metal wreckage. She took the impact on her right side, felt something in her side pop that was followed by a jolt of pain, and shoved free to hand out the canisters she was carrying. Blue spray soon spewed from the canisters. As soon as it came in contact with the nutonium, it turned white and expanded into foam that would deactivate the acidic nature of the chemical and prevent anyone else from getting burned.

A sharp booming sound when the port nasaille took a hard hit yanked a yell from her. All she could do was drop into a crouch and cover her head again. So many people were screaming at her. So many individual expectations were waiting on her to bark another order since no one else had stepped up to the plate in Scotty's absence. What the Hell did they expect her to do? Bones and his roll of duct tape would do a better job of holding the ship together.

Someone suddenly yanked her out of the way in time to keep her from being turned into a stain on the ground when another catwalk came down. She found her nose mashed up against a man's chest and her body flattened against a wall, which only added further abuse to what she suspected was a broken rib.

"Goddamnit, either pull your head out of your ass or get the Hell out of engineering, 'cause I ain't got time to keep you from being my next patient!" Bones shouted.

"I'm sorry," she said in a slightly plaintive voice.

"Don't be sorry. Just get your head in the damned game. I'm not gonna tell you again. Scotty hand-picked you from dozens of applicants despite your shaky record because he believed in you. My suggestion is that you don't let him down or you'll find yourself shipped back a desk job at HQ ."

Scotty believed in her. He thought she had the potential to be as good an engineer as her father. Ritha dragged in a quivering breath and nodded. "You won't have to tell me again, Doctor McCoy. I got this." She added a thumbs up for emphasis.

"You damn well better, Ensign Monroe. Now get your ass moving like you're not being paid by the hour."

As soon as he stepped out of the way, she dropped a hand to her side and then took off again. The panic was still lodged firmly between her clavicles. No inspirational speech or self-help guide would make it go away, but thoughts of what would happen to her sister, a doctor whom Bones had no doubt left in charge of Sickbay, if she fucked up was motivation enough to beat it back for now.

***

"Nurse Chapel, get a hydrocarodin dressing on these burns and hook Scotty up to ECMO. His lungs took more damage than I hoped," Bones ordered. "The rest of you start transporting the stable patients up to Sickbay so Doctor Westin can take over their treatment."

At least things weren't crashing to the floor anymore. There was still plenty of moaning and screaming going on from the wounded, but the battle seemed to be over with, a fact that was proven when Jim made an appearance in Engineering. However, Bones didn't look at Jim when the captain stopped to have a word with Ensign Monroe: He looked at Ensign Monroe. Since when wasn't staring at a gorgeous blonde preferable to Jim's ugly mug?

He really tried to come up with something snarky about her inability to stay focused in a high pressure situation and her lack of experience, but some kind of psychological issue was obviously the root of her problems. Scotty had seen something in her when he'd gone to bat with Jim to get her transfer approved despite the fact she'd turned down two promotions and had been described by her last CO as unmotivated but willing to please. Whatever Scotty had seen in her, it wasn't her boobs. Everyone knew Scotty was a boob man, but it would be generous to say Ritha's were a B cup.

Assessing her on the Jim Kirk Fuckability scale was just distracting him from his patients, so he turned away from the pair to continue with his work. Damned Klingons. They'd had to fight three War Birds to save a Malduban vessel that had made the mistake of trying to gain access to a planet the Klingons had declared theirs. Now they would end up being stuck drifting through space for a week just so enough repairs could be made for them to limp into a Federation dry dock where they would spend a month making the Enterprise space-worthy. A month after that, the Enterprise would get broken again. Honestly, he had no idea why Admiral Pike didn't fire the lot of them.

"How's he doing?" Jim suddenly asked from behind Bones.

Bones didn't have to ascertain who the captain was talking about. It was obvious. "It's touch and go, but he's holding stable right now. His lungs sustained chemical burns. I'll treat them with steroids to speed up the growth of healthy lung tissue, but it's too soon to say for certain."

"Shit, if you're actually explaining your treatments for him, that means it's 'he could die' bad. How many casualties?"

"Twenty-three so far. Most of them were during the collapsing catwalks and that damned engine block that fell over. I bet that hobgoblin is still kicking, though." He couldn't come right out and ask if Spock was all right lest he ruin his reputation, so he had to beat around the damn bush to get Jim to divulge what he wanted to know.

"He's kicking like a mule at a bestiality convention. Uhura was flung out of her chair and hit her head on the edge of a console, so he won't be all right until she wakes up and reassures him that she's all right."

"Goddamnit! I'll be up in Sickbay as soon as I get the rest of these patients stable and transported. I'll take a look at her to make sure she doesn't have any swelling in her brain or breaks in her skull."

"Westin is a competent doctor, you know. You even said so yourself. She already checked for all that, and the results came back negative."

"Since when has competent been good enough to treat you, the hobgoblin, or Uhura?" he demanded in his best irritable tone. It was quite simple actually. No one but him was qualified to do more than preliminary exams on the damned catastrophes waiting to happen. Scotty would have to be added to that list now too.

"Control-freak," Jim muttered with a good-natured smile.

"Psycho," Bones shot back.

"Is that your official diagnosis, Doctor McCoy?"

"Damn straight. One Starfleet vessel attacked three Klingon War Birds. If that isn't psychotic, I don't know what is."

"One Starfleet vessel defeated three Klingon War Birds," Jim retorted. The captain's chest puffed up with pride.

Bones somehow managed to keep his sour expression fixed firmly on his face instead of revealing the pleasure at having maneuvered Jim into focusing on their victory rather than the amount of damage the Enterprise had sustained and the number of lives lost. Most people wouldn't know it if Jim slapped them in the face with his emo stick, but the captain took the job of being responsible for every life on this ship very seriously. If he couldn't be made to focus on the victory, he would focus on the number of casualties.

"Just make more work for me. Now, get out of my triage and give someone a field promotion to clean this shit up before Scotty wakes up and has an aneurysm when he sees how much damage his baby took."

"Well, you know how I love driving you nuts, and for your information, I already gave a field promotion to Monroe. She needs the experience to qualify for a promotion before HQ puts her on a desk job."

"Monroe is going to be in charge of engineering?" Could he help it if there was a small amount of dread in his voice.

"Yeah, so I suggest you, being the CMO and having the final say over all things medical, recommend she sees Spock for counseling."

Bones' back went rigid. "Why Spock? I'm the acting psychologist on this ship. If she needs counseling, I'm the one who should handle it."

"Last I checked, it's unethical for a psychologist to fuck the brains out of his patient, and given the way you were staring at her when I first came into engineering, you're going to end up fucking her brains out."

"Am not!" Well, that was a damned mature response. He didn't get flustered often, but Jim managed to fluster him every damn time the captain tried to bring up his sexuality, or lack thereof.

A dishwater blonde brow popped up in a perfect imitation of Spock's Eyebrow of Doom. "Point and match to James T. Kirk."

"You can take your assumptions and go do something useful with them. I'm busy."

Grumbling something about nosey captains, Bones returned to his patients and proceeded to ignore Jim. Ignoring him was the best way to annoy the captain, and right now, Bones definitely wanted Jim to be annoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Alas, the copyrights to Star Trek aren't mine yet. Let me know if you think my chapters are too long and need to be broken up into shorter segments.

Chapter 2

Ritha's finger twitched in time with a soft beeping sound. Voices droning nearby penetrated a brain saturated with exhaustion from endless days of repairs and patches in order to make the Enterprise capable of flying again. A blue eye popped open to survey her surroundings, because the last she'd known, she was in the medical bay checking on Scotty. Which was where she must have passed out considering her face was mashed up against a mattress next to Scotty's hip and she was half-hanging off a stool. Not the most uncomfortable of positions she'd ever woken up in, but she definitely didn't want to think about the unfortunate reasons for waking up in a more awkward place.

Tense muscles in her neck could have drowned out Megadeath's High Speed Dirt with their screams of pain when she righted herself on the stool. Said muscles were only shouting half as loudly as the broken ribs she'd been treated for earlier in the week. Her glance, however, immediately went to the vitals monitor on the headboard of Scotty's bed to make sure he was still alive and breathing. She hadn't known him long, but Scotty was infectious. He had one of those quirky personalities that was easily loveable, was casual, believed in his engineers, and actually respected her. It made being irritated when he stared at her ass impossible.

"There are better places to sleep than on a stool in Sickbay. You know, like the bed in your quarters maybe? He's not going to heal any faster with you here."

"How long have I been out?" she inquired of the blonde doctor who padded over to check Scotty's vitals. Said blonde doctor also happened to be her sister.

"Long enough for Bones to grumble about his sickbay not being a hotel but not so long that he decided to admit you. An hour maybe."

"Is he any better?"

"In the hour you've been asleep? Actually, we were able to take him off ECMO. He's stable, breathing on his own, and we expect him to make a full recovery."

"Thank God for that. This ship wouldn't be the same without him."

"You two aren't dating, are you? I mean, some of the other engineers have been up to check on him but none so religiously as you and Keenser. It's like he's Mecca, and you two are pilgrims."

"Us? Dating? God no! I have a strict policy against dating people in my own field on the same ship. You end up spending so much time together that all the little personality quirks you may have found cute in a boyfriend end up being annoying."

"Well, that's a good policy to have."

An uncomfortable silence descended over them in which neither could look the other directly in the eye. Ritha ended up massaging her neck with one hand and brushing at a stain on her trousers with the other to make it look as though she weren't uncomfortable. So many things she wanted to say during those tense moments were left unsaid when her determination to fix things between them chickened out. Years of "its all Dad's fault they got a divorce" and "they'd still be together if Mom weren't such a stuck-up snob" had taken their toll. She wasn't sure their relationship was even fixable at all.

The silence was broken when Stella cleared her throat and said, "Since you're here, let me take another x-ray of your ribs to check your progress. I would expect the breaks to be healed already, but given how much you've been moving around, I'm not surprised."

"I'm fine, Stella, and I should be getting back to work. With any luck, the ship will be mobile again in a couple of days." She started to get up only to have Stella's hand on her shoulder force her butt back onto the stool.

"You're not fine until I say you are, so consider yourself lucky I signed off for you to return to that grease trap you call Engineering instead of admitting you to Sickbay. This will only take a second."

"Yeah, it's a grease trap, and I'm a wrench monkey. I think you've said enough disparaging remarks about my profession to last me the rest of my damned life."

"I didn't mean that! God, you're so stubborn. It's like you're a carbon copy of Dad, because he's this stubborn."

"And what's wrong with being like Dad?" she snapped. "Dad's a good man, a successful engineer, and unlike Mom, he cares about what a person has on the inside instead of just how they look or how much money they…"

The sibling pissing match was brought to an immediate halt when Doctor McCoy stormed out of his office like he was ready to set fireworks off under their asses and said, "Take your bickering out of Sickbay before you make someone code just to get some peace and quiet."

"I'm sorry, Doctor McCoy," Stella immediately said. Her chin practically hit her chest to go along with the blush staining her cheeks. "Ensign Monroe was being difficult about allowing me to assess her condition."

"Yeah, blame it all on me being difficult. Now that I've checked on Scotty, I'll get back to my grease trap with all the other wrench monkeys where I belong."

"Monroe, freeze," Bones commanded. "Westin, quit arguing with the patients about their care. If she doesn't want to cooperate, shark her with another calcium mender and revoke her light duty status until she wants to cooperate. When Doctor Westin has completed her examination, see me in my office, Ensign."

She was in mid-step when Bones' command stopped her in her tracks. "Shark her with some calcium mender? What a strange choice of words." Her first exposure with the technique of hypo-sharking happened when Stella, suddenly and without a single warning, popped her in the neck with her hypospray hard enough that it actually stung.

"Sharking is the delivery of hypospray injections while the patient isn't paying attention." Stella explained. "It's only necessary with stubborn patients and was coined by Doctor McCoy while treating the captain, who is a notoriously difficult patient."

Grumbling under her breath sounded like a good idea until she realized just how childish any further complaints would have been. Running to avoid treatment just to prove some macho superiority over her sister also sounded pretty childish, so in the end, she eased onto a stool.

"Scan away, Sis," she finally said, but her glance followed Bones as he checked Scotty's vitals and headed back into his office. How the Hell had he heard their bickering anyway? As superstitious and suspicious as he was, he'd probably bugged all of Sickbay.

Another awkward silence bordering on the realm of uncomfortable wet-blanketed them while Stella passed a hand-held device over her ribs. Once again, Stella broke it first. "Is it always going to be like this between us?"

"God, I hope not. We've gotta make this work, Stella. Neither of us can afford to request another transfer, but we also can't go on like this without one of our COs busting us all the back to Earth."

"So how do we fix it? We've tried waving a magic wand and reciting hoodoo spells to make all the bad juju between us go away, but I can't magically understand you and vice versa."

"Then we start by stopping all this blaming. No more name-calling, talking about who is the bad parent, or taking pot shots at each others career."

"Do you really think we can do it?"

"We don't have a choice," she answered, feeling as though some nasty grease plug had finally been flushed through her proverbial pipes. "I'm sorry I was difficult and ended up getting you yelled at by your CMO."

"Two patients, whom we thought were taking a turn for the better, died today. I'm surprised he didn't bend us over an examination table and spank us until we couldn't sit for a week."

"Kinky," Ritha said, unsure of what she should say about the loss of their patients. Saying one was sorry was so cliché, but what else was there to say? "I really am sorry about your patients."

"So am I." There was a short pause before she continued, "Okay, you're good to go, but I want you to come back tomorrow for another scan. At the rate you're healing, you can expect to stay on light duty for another two days. Now, go see Bones. It's best to have private meetings with him before he realizes he's skipped lunch again."

"He does that often enough you've charted his grumpiness around the skipping of meals? Someone needs to tie a pork chop to that man's wrist."

A calming breath was necessary to fortify herself when she approached Bones' office, but the anxiety only returned when Stella gave her one of those "good luck, and I hope you come out in one piece" looks. The past several days had been spent in different stages of tension wondering when Bones would take her to task for her poor performance during the attack. One word from him and Starfleet would skip the probationary period she was on and jerk her back to Earth so fast she'd make warp five.

Yes, it was his power as CMO she was apprehensive about, not the man himself. Strip away that power, and Bones was an extremely attractive man. There were glimpses of a southern charm in him when he was in just the right mood with just the right amount of relaxation time that she found intriguing. Combine that with an awesome sense of humor when he was around Spock and the captain and it wasn't difficult for her to explain why she wanted to take up permanent residence in his pants.

Deciding that being cowardly at this point would utterly destroy her own sense of self-worth, she pressed the chime on his door. Said door swished open a second later to grant her access where she found him seated behind a desk and surrounded by a stack of data pads. He seemed content to ignore her while his nose was buried in the data pad when all she wanted to do was get the tongue-lashing over with. She was like a puppy who had had an accident on the carpet and knew they were about to get their nose shoved in it.

Since fidgeting was out of the question, Ritha did what she did best; flirted. "You know, I usually make someone buy me dinner before they get me alone in a place where clothes are removed daily."

He didn't take the bait. "Have a seat, Ensign Monroe."

"So there won't be an anal cavity search to find out whether or not I've taken to storing things up my ass like Scotty? Thank God." She eased into the chair across from him.

"I would have asked Doctor Westin or Nurse Chapel to join us if an anal cavity search had been necessary. No, I asked you to see me because I want to recommend you make an appointment with Spock to receive counseling for whatever issues made you freeze in the middle of combat."

That was it? He was going to recommend counseling instead of reaming her out for it? "I've had traditional counseling."

"Good, then Spock might actually make sure this never happens again, because his methods are far from traditional. Understand something. The Enterprise crew consistently ends up with the worst missions. If something bad can happen here, it will, which means this crew has to be the best of the best in order to survive."

"And you don't think I make the cut."

"In the past year, you've turned down two promotions, have applied for and received three transfers, and have been described by your last CO as unmotivated. If I'd been responsible for signing off on new crew members, I would have told Scotty to leap off Hadrian's Wall without a Goddamn helmet."

"Hadrian's Wall isn't actually a wall anymore," she remarked. "What little ruins remained were torn down a couple of decades ago during the reunification of the British Isles." His disapproval shouldn't have stung the way it did.

"That's all you've got to say for yourself? One word from me could have you shipped back to Earth, and you want to prattle on about Hadrian's Wall?"

"The number of female engineers active on Starfleet vessels only takes up one page. Sexual harassment isn't supposed to happen in this day and age, but it does. The only way to insulate ourselves from it is to act like one of the guys. Guys don't talk about pesky things like emotions and mental trauma, so it's not like I can just flip a switch and suddenly start spilling my guts to you."

"You've been sexually harassed on this ship? Give me names and ranks. That shit doesn't fly on the Enterprise."

"It hasn't happened here, but that wasn't the point. The point was… Just forget it. So you want Spock to be my therapist. Is it really a recommendation or a veiled order from the CMO?"

"Think of it this way, Ensign Monroe; heed my recommendation, and this won't go on your permanent medical record. Be stubborn about it, and I'll have your ass shipped back to HQ with a psychological discharge. Is that clear enough for you? Jim and Scotty were willing to give you some rope. Don't hang yourself with it."

"Gotcha. You and me, now we're operating on the same wave length," she said. Being thrown off-balance wasn't her idea of fun, so she was desperate to turn the focus of this meeting away from her. "By the way, I love it when you take charge. It makes me all gooey and excited inside."

"I don't have an injection for that," he responded. The arch of his dark brow reminded her of Spock, but it was the thickening of his Southern accent that intrigued her.

"Just so we're clear, McCoy, if your ex-wife ever tries to come back and take your bones, you can always jump mine."

Shoving to her feet, Ritha swept out of his office with a knowing little grin in place at having gotten in the last word. Hopefully that not-so-subtle offer shocked him into remembering her for more than the three seconds it would take for his attention to focus back on work. She was sick of him making her lady parts quiver for an hour after seeing him when she didn't seem to have a single lasting effect on him aside from him dwelling on her piss-poor record.

***

_If your ex-wife ever tries to come back and take your bones, you can always jump mine. _Her last comment echoed in his ears until his face heated. Good God, was he blushing? Wondering whether or not that meeting had gone in her favor or his was an impossible thing to sort out, so he didn't even try. There was too much work to do filing all the injury reports for an erection to cloud his thinking, but that was exactly what was happening.

Jim would tell him to screw her just to get her out of his system, but one-night-stands with coworkers were exceedingly stupid ideas. Technically, sexual relationships with crew members were against the rules, but seeing as how they lived on a starship in space and went months, even years, without shore leave, they were overlooked. There was an even better reason not to get involved with her. If she developed feelings for him he didn't reciprocate, they could lose a crew member. Scotty would pout for the next year at losing an engineer he swore up and down had unlimited potential. At the same time, if he didn't take her up on her offer, his damned crotch might explode!

The sudden chiming of his office door brought him back to reality. He had work to do, and there he was acting like a teenager who could somehow relate carpet to sex. Grumbling about stupid bodily needs, he opened the door with a spoken command to find Spock waiting outside with his hands clasped behind his back. Bones had already checked the hobgoblin's hands for magnets to explain why he always had them clasped together. No luck.

"Lieutenant Uhura hasn't relapsed, has she?" he asked.

"If you are referring to her nausea from yesterday, then yes, she has relapsed. She made a personal request for me to escort her to Sickbay after spending much of the morning plagued by queasiness. Doctor Westin is performing an examination."

His chair was left spinning when he flew out of it in record time to brush past Spock and head out into Sickbay proper. Lieutenant Uhura was sitting on an examination table while Stella took readings with a tricorder. A bump on the head shouldn't result in ongoing nausea unless said bump had aggravated a preexisting condition. There were plenty of those to rule out before coming to a definitive diagnosis. Harkinson's Syndrome, in which the positioning of the skull's foramen magnum was slightly out of alignment with the spinal column, could result in pressure on the spinal cord which could lead to malfunctions in coordination and balance and could result in nausea. Drake's Syndrome, a mutation in which the brain stem grew unnaturally low and could bulge out of the foramen magnum, was also a possibility. Even something as simple as vertigo could cause nausea.

"Have you noticed any pattern to the nausea?" Stella was asking.

"It seems to happen most when I'm around certain types of food. The smell of Spock's soup last night just about sent me to the lavatory. This morning, the captain had some awful concoction of pancakes with a side of refried beans that had me hunched over a recycler for twenty minutes."

"We'll start with fresh CT scans of the brain and skull, concentrating on the foramen magnum and the brain stem," Bones said, which should have told Doctor Westin he was taking over the case from her.

Stella either didn't take the hint or chose to completely ignore him, because she continued by asking, "And when was the last time you had your menstrual cycle?"

"A couple of months ago, but that's not uncommon for me. They've never been exactly regular."

"Doctor Westin…" He was interrupted when Stella shoved her tricorder in his face so he could read the hormone levels on the screen. Bones blinked. He blinked again. Then he got his handheld out to check the hormone levels against the accepted levels. "Lieutenant, Doctor Westin would like to perform a quick blood test to ensure these readings are accurate." And he was going to go throw up and possibly get drunk.

"Doctor McCoy, have you found an anomaly in the tricorder scans?" Spock asked in his "you're starting to worry me" tone which wasn't all that different from his "I'm bored senseless" tone.

"One minute, Spock. I'm not saying a damn thing until these results are authenticated through a blood test."

"If you have found an anomaly, I would prefer to…"

Bones cut him off. "Just give it a minute! Your Vulcan control should last at least that long."

"I just need to take a drop of your blood," Stella assured Uhura while extracting said drop from the lieutenant's fingertip. The blood was then delivered to a nearby machine so all the appropriate tests could be run.

When Stella brought him the tricorder displaying the results, he had to read it three times, his face turning a different shade of green each time he read it. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Uhura. You're pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Nyota gasped.

Any other man in Spock's position would have hit the floor in a cold faint. Spock merely blinked rather owlishly and said, "You are certain, Doctor? The probability of Lieutenant Uhura being with child, taking into the equation that we have both undergone the temporary sterilization procedure, is less than one point three four percent."

"I know that, Spock," Bones countered.

Stella stepped in as the voice of reason when she said, "The sterilization process is only ninety eight percent effective. Technically if you're both in that two percent, it is possible. Since you're a hybrid, Commander Spock, we really have no way of knowing if the procedure is effective on you at all."

Bones needed a chair and a fifth of whiskey. A miniature clone of Spock and Nyota running around the ship? He was having visions of disaster, including but not limited to having the probability of diaper changes correlating with the precise consumption of formula being quoted in his face every day when Spock Junior was rushed to Sickbay because his finger had been twitching for the past five minutes.

"After she gives birth to a green-blooded hobgoblin and you two decide you're ready to start having… Condoms, Goddamnit!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Still don't own anything related to Star Trek

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Chapter 3

"According to my calculations, Istabul Major is the nearest Federation planet with available dry dock. Estimated time of arrival is one hour forty-three minutes."

Jim Kirk was laughing so hard all he heard was a series of "wah wah wahs" like in the ancient Earth Charlie Brown cartoons. In fact, he had to read the post on the Enterprise's internet forum board again, which only resulted in him howling with laughter and grabbing hold of his aching ribs like that would keep him from busting a gut. Scuttlebutt was in love with a new rumor, posted by an anonymous patient in Sickbay who had supposedly overheard the entire exchange. The rumor? Lieutenant Uhura was pregnant and Bones was shouting his head off about whiskey and condoms. He couldn't be sure which was funnier; that people were saying Uhura was pregnant, that Bones was screaming about whiskey and condoms, or the genius of the person who had made up that particular rumor, because the crew seriously needed something to laugh about.

"Lieutenant Sulu, the captain is finally gone mad?"

"What?" Jim managed to get out between guffaws.

"Ensign Chekov was just saying that Istabul Major is the nearest Federation planet with an available dry dock. We can reach the planet in one hour and forty-three minutes," Sulu helpfully supplied.

Finally managing to bring the laughter under control, he wiped at the tears on his face and said, "Well, then set a course for Istabul Major. Lieutenant Hannity, send a message to their government informing them of our impending arrival."

At least he managed to get that command out before the bridge doors swished open to admit Spock, whose expression was placid as usual. Apparently he hadn't heard the rumor yet, but as soon as Jim saw him, he burst into another round of laughter. Spock with a kid! Lieutenant Uhura with a kid. Now that was the frightening thought, but the true terror of the situation, were she to actually be pregnant, was the thought of Uhura on pregnancy hormones. Bones would have to keep her sedated for the entire gestational period lest she break the ship. Again.

"A captain's levity on the bridge may be good for morale, but I fail to understand what you could possibly find so amusing, Captain," Spock drawled while taking his seat. "The Kirk Is Insane Theory, as postulated by Doctor Leonard McCoy, states there may be no environmental stimuli at the source of your current howling, however, twenty-three percent of the crew has engaged in some form of snickering in my presence. Therefore, I can only conclude you have created a forum submission involving me as the anatomical posterior of one of your jokes."

Laughing so hard was really starting to get painful, but he couldn't help himself when Spock came up with such priceless gems as "the anatomical posterior of one of your jokes." He couldn't breathe! Somehow, he managed to say, "The butt of one of your jokes, Spock. That's the correct phrase."

"As per usual, I will be the last person on the ship to ascertain what everyone is so amused about."

"Obviously you haven't read any of the recent posts on the forum." Which wasn't out of the ordinary. Spock tended not to get involved with the breeding ground of gossip that was the Enterprise forum. Jim sobered when it dawned on him that Spock was being made the "anatomical posterior" of yet another joke. It was all well and good when Jim did it, but the idea that someone else was picking on the elf left a sour taste in his mouth.

"The forum is nothing more than another location for humans to engage in the very human obsession with gossip. When Scuttlebutt's true identity is ascertained, he or she should be subject to a military tribunal."

"Spock, ready room."

Jim rolled to his feet and cut his thumb across his throat when Ensigns Bandorf and Coleman started snickering. Somehow, it wasn't as funny anymore when Spock didn't understand a certain slang term, cultural reference, or that Scuttlebutt stood for the rumor mill rather than a real person in this case. He'd have to squash the rumor about Spock being an impending daddy no matter how funny it really was.

He didn't say anything until they were both ensconced inside his ready room. "One, Scuttlebutt isn't a real person. It's a slang term for the rumor mill. Two, the reason everyone is laughing when you're around is because someone made up a rumor that you knocked Uhura up."

"I am unfamiliar with that particular phrase."

"Put a bun in her oven, charmed her eggs, got her in the mothering way, filled her belly, got her pregnant. Pick one. It's just a stupid rumor being fanned out of control because everyone on the ship has been working their asses off and needs a break."

The subtle tightening of Spock's lips, an expression most people would have ignored, belied the calmness with which he next spoke. "Such is not a rumor, Jim. Nyota and I will be parents, and though we both would have preferred to acclimate ourselves to the idea of parenthood before making an announcement to the crew, such a condition is impossible to hide indefinitely."

Silence.

"Captain, are you unwell? Is contacting Bones necessary?"

Silence.

"Jim," Spock prompted again.

He would have answered, but his brain was trying to determine whether or not he should laugh or hit the floor in a faint. Uhura was going to turn into a raging ball of hormones that would explode and take the ship with her! In nine months, a miniature Uhura would be terrorizing the ship. They were all doomed.

"I'm either going to order an immediate evacuation of the ship or congratulate you. I haven't figured out which yet," he finally said.

"Nyota being with child is hardly a reason to order a general evacuation. The timing of her pregnancy is unexpected since neither of us anticipated the sterilization process would be ineffective, but we are not displeased with the idea of parenthood."

The slant of Spock's eyebrows, the almost-imperceptible squint, and the slight narrowing of the Half-Vulcan's lips said otherwise. "If you're not displeased with the pregnancy, why are you making your 'I'm seriously anxious' face?"

"You are mistaken, Captain. A Vulcan responds logically to a given set of stimuli. Being displeased at the progeneration of my genes would be illogical."

"It would be illogical to be anxious about having a kid when you and Lieutenant Uhura have only just started your careers aboard a busy starship? It would be illogical to be concerned about raising a kid on the Enterprise? You've got that backwards, Spock. Being anything but apprehensive would be illogical."

Spock's next breath was a little heavier than normal. "Procreation while both individuals are active members stationed aboard a starship sometimes results in either parent being decommissioned. Every member of the crew is required to be temporarily sterilized to avoid this very outcome and for very logical reasons."

"You gotta tell me what you're really worried about here, or I'm just taking stabs in the dark. Are you worried about being a dad? Or are you worried Starfleet is going to bust you for knocking Lieutenant Uhura up while on active duty?"

"Perhaps I am concerned about both topics," Spock responded. "As you mentioned, Nyota is only beginning her career. Starfleet may require she resign from active duty and accept a permanent post on Earth where she will be capable of rearing our offspring instead of exacerbating the natural stress of our environment with the addition of a child."

"And the part where you're worried about being a father?"

"Parenting techniques are vastly different between our two species. Though finding a commonality in said techniques is not impossible, as proven by my Vulcan father and Human mother, I am concerned…"

"That you're going to make a crappy father, raise your kid wrong, and Nyota will end up hating you for it." Jim interrupted Spock before he could finish the statemenet only because he knew Spock would downplay what he was really feeling. Besides, Spock's tone wavered slightly at the mention of his mother, and Jim wanted to get his attention away from her as quickly as possible.

"Such is not the manner in which I would have expressed the emotion, but yes. By Vulcan standards, I am far too young to successfully parent as most Vulcans wait to reproduce until their careers are established."

"If you haven't noticed lately, you really don't fit the Vulcan standard in a lot of ways, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. Let's tackle your fear that Uhura will be asked to resign from active duty. If Starfleet had the recommendation of your captain that you're both too valuable to the ship to be decommissioned, I'm sure they will make an exception. Lucky for you, I'm your captain and happen to like your ugly mug. Uhura is the best in her field and is definitely too valuable to be shipped off to some white picket fence with a dog and a yard.

"Secondly," Jim continued, "every parent has a different parenting style from their partner. Uhura and you will be able to work that out. Thirdly, you're not going to be a terrible father. Being half human, you have a better perspective on raising a human kid than your father did, and you grew up all right. Now, let's try something hard like determining why the sun can't revolve around me."

"In your estimation, Captain, the sun already does revolve around you."

Chuckling, Jim flopped into a chair and propped his feet up on the table before saying, "Try not to stress too much. I know it's impossible not to be freaked out. If I were in your position, I'd probably be launching myself off the ship without a pod, but you'll be able to handle this. What I'm worried about is Uhura hopped up on pregnancy hormones. Imminent hull integrity fail!"

"You are suggesting the increased hormone levels will trigger erratic mood swings resulting in permanent damage to the ship?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. Luckily most things heavy enough to actually result in that type of damage are bolted to the floor, so she won't be able to throw them. Can we restrict her from having forks and knives in the mess hall?"

"Nyota will be perfectly civil as she always is. There will be on need to restrict her access to eating utensils."

"Are we talking about the same Nyota?"

"There is only one Nyota Uhura aboard the ship." Spock abandoned the topic of conversation when he asked, "Was Ensign Chekov successful in ascertaining if there is an available dry dock in close proximity with our location?"

"Yeah, a planet called Istabul Major almost two hours from us. The ship is in good enough condition to the make the trip on impulse power."

"Istabul Major and the smaller Istabul Minor are both part of the Bultoran quadrant. Both became members of the Federation a mere thirteen years ago and redesigned their governmental systems from imperial monarchies to federal republics. The technology and availability of resources on Istabul Major surpass our present needs."

"Surpass our present needs? I'd say that's preferable to landing on some backwater planet and listening to Scotty whine about being forced to use manual wrenches and screwdrivers to do the job."

"I concur with your assessment. Their military and law enforcement technology has been slow to develop, however, due to rigid imperical policies forbidding the research, development, or manufacture of weapons."

"And the underground development of weapons didn't crop up? Big Brother is watching. Anything else I should be made aware of before we dock?"

"People were far more interested in developing technologies necessary to produce enough resources for their growing population. The Bultoran sun radiates a significantly higher amount of ultraviolet light that cannot be filtered by their thin ozone. Hence the planet's inability to produce an abunace of organic resources."

"So I should have Bones break out gallons of sun screen to slather everyone in, right?"

"That would be logical, Captain. I would also recommend a general alert for the crew to wear full-coverage, polycarbonate glasses to protect their eyes. Istabulians have developed a higher concentration of melanin in their skin and surrounding their eyes to absorb and dissipate ultraviolet radiation. Significant exposure to us would result in malignant melanoma, cataracts, and blindness."

"In other words, death by sun exposure, and we'll end up being stuck on this planet for upwards of a month making the repairs." He looked at his first officer intently. A year ago, Spock had wanted him kicked out of Starfleet for cheating on the Kobayashi Maru. Now, he was sharing his personal worries. Huh. Guess that proved the whole opposites attract theory.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Do I really have to state in each chapter that I don't own Star Trek? Thank you to all who have reviewed and/or favorited this story or added it to your story alert. I'd love to hear what people think in the form of reviews. Love it? Hate? Couldn't care less? Let me know.

* * *

Chapter 4

Bulta, the capital city of Istabul Major wasn't nearly as uptight as Jim had been expecting when he hopped out of the shuttle that had delivered Bones, Spock, and him to the planet's Federation headquarters. In fact, it appeared to be a modern city with all the amenities he'd gotten used to in San Francisco. Neon lights flashed everywhere. Vid screens were constantly in motion and depicting well-dressed people advertising the next best thing in fashion, and the street running parallel to the city square was clogged with traffic. The best thing he saw? An entire city block dedicated to nothing but restaurants. His stomach gurgled in anticipation.

Before he could make use of all those lovely credits Starfleet was paying him to fill his stomach he had to assess the Fuckability potential of the women he saw and then get through a meeting with Istabul's president. He chose to concentrate his efforts on the women first. All the natives of the planet had leathery brown skin. A darker strip of coloration ran from temple to temple across eyes that were covered by a protective opaque film. Their clothing was elaborate, colorful, and reminded him vaguely of Asian fashions, not that he would ever admit to knowing what the word "fashion" meant.

A smirk formed on his lips when a woman rushed past him and up the stairs leading to the Federation building, because her ass was clearly delineated by a tight skirt. If that was the norm for asses on this planet, he was going to enjoy a smorgasbord of them all lined up in a row Conga style. The fantasy was brought to an immediate halt when Bones' elbow chose that moment to jab him in the ribs, which had him turning a scowl in the man's direction.

"Unless your tongue has a special gland that produces semen, don't bother getting your hopes up, Jim," Bones said from next to him.

"They have sex with their tongues?" he asked in a flat tone.

"Basically, and your tongue just isn't gonna cut it with one of these women."

"Well, there goes France as the capital of the 'make love with your faces' movement. Let's get this meeting over with and go have some food. I'm starving."

"You're always starving."

"And you're always grumpy, so we're even."

"I believe what Doctor McCoy was trying to convey is that you should not have dalliances with the women of Istabul Major. Their hospitality is not to be taken advantage of," Spock interjected.

"I get it! No hanky-panky while we're on the planet. You two take the fun out of everything."

Flanked by the pair of party poopers, Jim trotted up the stairs and entered into a marble foyer swimming with people. An endless drone of conversation created a buzz in the air as the people gathered around large vid screens mounted over a reception desk that were currently displaying announcements in Istha Major, Istha Minor, and Federation Standard. A couple of the messages caught his immediate attention as did a snippet of conversation between a pair of visiting Utulians.

"A water sanitation advisory?" he asked of no one in particular.

"So it seems. Manually sanitizing water with purification tablets on the individual household level becomes necessary when the water filtration and sanitation plant has been compromised or is experiencing mechanical failure."

"Yeah, I know what it means, Spock." Jim would have elaborated on the correlation between the water sanitation advisory and the red national security alert to prove once again he wasn't as oblivious as they seemed to think were it not for the sudden arrival of a rather chubby man wearing wide-legged trousers and a pink wrap shirt.

"Welcome!" the man began enthusiastically. "I am Jong Je Jin, representative and personal assistant to His Excellency, His Most High Eminence, President Tien To Tobra, son of Tam To Tien, who was the last, best, and greatest emperor of Istabul Major before our transition to a federal republic according to Federation guideline P3C298 Article 12 Paragraph 3."

He kept leaning forward with every word the man rattled off in anticipation of the assistant taking a breath. Said assistant never did. "Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. This is Doctor Leonard McCoy and my first officer Commander Spock."

"Tien To Tobra wishes me to convey his hope that our dry dock has all the facilities necessary for the complete repair of your starship. He also sends his greetings and personal relief at your timely arrival."

"Your facilities are adequate for our current needs," Spock responded.

"I couldn't help but notice your code red national security alert. Is that why President Tobra is relieved at our timely arrival?"

Jong suddenly went into an apoplectic fit and flailed his hands in the air, a spasm that was followed immediately with the fanning of his hand in front of his face. "No, you mustn't refer to His Excellency as anything but President Tien To Tobra. Bad luck will surely follow you the rest of your days if you speak of him in such a disrespectful manner, Captain James T. Kirk."

"Not even an hour on the planet and you're already starting interstellar diplomatic incidents, Jim. At this rate, we'll be running for our lives before the end of the day," Bones drawled in a manner that said running for their lives was inevitable.

Jim's brow flattened in a "you've got to be kidding me" expression, but he said, "Okay, then. About that national security alert?"

"It is a matter you should discuss with His Most Gracious Eminence, and we should not keep him waiting. Please, come."

Bones was right. They would be running for their lives before the end of the day. Of all the planets with dry docks they could have chosen, they'd picked the one currently involved in breaches of national security. Only the Enterprise could stop to make critical repairs and end up getting sucked into governmental subterfuge. Scotty obviously hadn't been wearing his good juju boxers when they'd docked. Of course, their chief engineer had also been in a flipping coma since the Klingon attack, so it was hard to put on underpants and dance the dance of the good juju.

Rolling his eyes at the expectant look Spock was giving him, he bounded after Jong Dong Bong to catch up with him as the man rounded a set of ornate stairs and stepped into a waiting lift. Hey, at least the building had lifts. The last Federation headquarters they'd set foot in had been after a disastrous mission that had left Sulu in traction for two weeks and hadn't had electricity at all. Jim was willing to count himself lucky.

Until the lift stopped on the thirteenth floor and the doors swished open. Then all he could do was groan inwardly when Bones muttered all the way down a long corridor about wishing he'd brought his good juju whiskey flask with him and how they were all going to contract Androban warts just from setting foot on the thirteenth floor. By the time they reached a set of ornate wood doors, he was deciding that Spock was the good brother today and Bones needed to be switched like a red-headed stepbrother.

Jim was expecting a stuffy old politician. He was expecting Tobra to be little more than a figurehead who had been elected simply because he was the son of a former emperor and could afford the campaign funds. Stuffy old politician couldn't describe the man seated behind a large desk when a pair of uniformed guards opened the doors. Tobra was younger, fitter, and far more intelligent if his assessing glance could be believed than anything Jim had anticipated.

"Enter and make yourselves comfortable," intoned Tobra. "Jong Je is a man who clings to traditions tighter than a woman clings to her mother's arm. Whatever customs he asked you to comply with are unnecessary. Which one of you is Captain Kirk?"

He didn't respond until he was seated in one of the chairs across from Tobra's desk. "Me, and this is Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy."

"The transmission detailing your situation couldn't have come at a better time for my people. A starship and crew of trained Federation officers will greatly benefit the situation we currently find ourselves in."

"To what manner of situation do you refer? Have you submitted a formal request to the Federation for assistance in resolving said situation?" Spock asked after having seated himself.

Overhead lights and lamps suddenly flickered and snuffed out, plunging the windowless room into darkness. A female voice announced over an intercom that power would be restored as soon as possible and that there was no need to panic. Bones had just taken up his grumbling again about unlucky thirteen when the pair of guards lit candles to illuminate the interior of the office.

"Part of our problem has just made itself aware. Our power grid was attacked last month, and despite endless hours of repair, we've been unable to create a stable connection. At roughly the same time, doctors informed me there was an influx of patients all showing the same symptoms that have since been attributed to poison. Traces of the poison have been found in all our water purification plants."

"Get me a list of symptoms or put me in contact with the CMO handling all the poison cases, and I'll see if I can do anything to help," volunteered Bones.

"I admit I was hoping you would say that, Doctor McCoy. Since receiving your transmission, I've looked into all of your records. You have an impressive crew, Captain Kirk, with credentials that are the best in their fields."

"Yeah, they are pretty awesome, but don't tell them that. There's enough ego on the Enterprise to totally break the universe without unnecessary stroking."

The president obviously didn't understand a word of what Jim had said, so he turned his attention to Spock. "To answer you're earlier question, I was preparing to submit a request for assistance when your transmission arrived."

"Do you have a list of suspects who may be responsible for both the poisoning of your water purification plants and the attack on your power infrastructure?"

"In this instance, Commander Spock, we are fully aware of who is responsible. Some members of our society expressed displeasure over the majority vote to join the Federation. They've since formed an anti-Federation movement called Sovereign Istabul and have been engaging in terrorist activity centered here in Bulta."

"I guess the next question that needs to be asked is why they're doing it. How can Federation membership be so terrible they have to stoop to poisoning their own people?" asked Jim.

"From what I gather, they believe in a free Istabul Major that will not be influenced by outside customs, asked to pay tax to the Federation, or conform to Federation guidelines. I believe they are afraid our culture and autonomy will suffer from outside influence rather than benefit from it."

Bones jumped into the conversation by asking, "What do you believe, President?"

"I believe existing in a vacuum while the rest of the universe progresses without us will hinder the people of this planet in the long run. Traditions are good, but all societies must evolve and shed the old when it stands in the way of remarkable benefits."

"And you haven't been able to apprehend the leaders of the movement yourselves?" Jim asked. This all smacked of Earth's entire first decade of the twenty-first century.

"Given our lack of experience with terrorist tactics, we have been unable to respond to these attacks with anything more than rudimentary efforts."

"If we are to conduct an investigation and apprehend the alleged terrorists, will they be given lawful trials according to Federation regulation C19 dash 73 which addresses the treatment and prosecution of criminals?"

"Anyone prosecuted for the activity will be given an unbiased trial. Our membership to the Federation may be in its infancy, but we are a fair and honorable people."

"Assuming we have the manpower to help you out, we'll need full access to any evidence you've gathered. You'll also need to put us in touch with your lead investigators," Jim said.

"Evorn En Elim is the minister of our law enforcement efforts and has been handling the case thus far. I'll arrange a meeting at your earliest convenience."

Further conversation was interrupted when a female voice emanating from a speaker on the president's desk informed Tien To Tobra the administrator of justice and law enforcement had arrived and required an urgent consultation. Without a word, he shot to his feet, an action that prompted the two guards to open the heavy doors.

"If you will excuse me. I will return to continue our discussion as soon as I see to this matter." Tobra swept from the office.

Jim leaned back in his chair to contemplate what they were being asked to do. Hell, it wasn't like they had anything better to do while they were on the planet. Overseeing the repairs on the Enterprise wasn't something he absolutely needed to do, not when he had such an awesome crew, so the alternative was getting himself in trouble and stuffing himself with too much food.

"Are we really contemplating hunting down terrorists for them?" Bones asked.

"You know what the Federation is, right? It's a peace-keeping and humanitarian operation…"

"Don't quote the Gospel According to Pike to me, Jim."

"Nonetheless, our duty as Federation officers is to aide in all situations in which Federation concerns or ideals are in jeopardy to the fullest extent allowable by Regulations. A young Federation planet has requested our intervention to bring peace to the native people. The better question, Bones, is to inquire how we could possibly turn them down."

"It wouldn't hurt to at least do some digging, so yeah, we're getting involved. Have Cupcake and a security detail shipped in from the dry dock along with Doctor Westin and Ensign Monroe. Westin will help you figure out this poison. Monroe will oversee repairs to their power infrastructure, and Cupcake will scowl people into forking over information."

The cracking of Bone's grumpy façade to reveal a satisfied expression wasn't unexpected. Bones loved a challenge no matter how much he bitched about it. Hell, half his bitching was just to keep people from realizing how much he cared. Spending three years in a dorm room with the man had given him enough insight to realize that.

The doors were suddenly opened again to readmit Tobra, who said, "Gentlemen, I hope you have decided to lend us aide. Intelligence has just arrived leading us to believe a food production facility is in the process of being attacked."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's shown interest in this story. Sometimes I think my interpretation of Bones comes off as too snarky. If anyone has any thoughts on this, let me know.

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Chapter 5

"Damnit, I'm a doctor not a security officer, Jim," Bones spat when the captain included him on the list of those Starfleet personnel going to the factory.

"Cupcake couldn't prepare an entire security team in the time I gave him. We need all the phasers we can muster. Besides, you took combat training at the Academy and don't all you Southerners love your guns more than your wives?"

"And we have a bias against Pepsi and bleed sweet tea. What's your point? Loving guns doesn't mean we want to rush into a location and get our heads blown off because our fearless leader doesn't have a shred of a plan."

Jim clapped him on the shoulder and returned, "Not having a plan has kept us alive for all these missions. If we start planning things now, we'll end up with holes where there shouldn't be any."

"You've already got holes where there shouldn't be any. There's one right between your ears."

"And yet you love me anyway. What's that say about you?"

"That I've got as much sense as a headless chicken that refuses to curl up in the cooking pot."

The captain paused, his brow knit together as though contemplating something. "I can't decide if that means you have good sense or crappy sense. If I were a chicken with its head cut off, I wouldn't help out by curling up in the cooking pot for humans."

Bones was content to let Jim continue wondering about that. All doctors swore an oath to protect, prolong, and uphold life. He'd been on missions before, had fired phasers before, had even killed to defend his crew before, but each time was another scratch on the Hippocratic Oath he upheld. But this was Jim asking. He'd followed Jim into Hell. He would follow him into Hell again at the asking.

The last person he expected to see getting off a shuttle outside the Federation building was Ensign Monroe, who wasn't due to arrive until later in the day. Thank God she wasn't wearing the normal Starfleet skirt that accompanied a woman's uniform but was sporting a pair of black trousers instead. The blue lubricant staining her face, hair, and uniform said she'd come directly from her work in Engineering. Of course, the sight of her brought back the not-so-subtle offer she'd left ringing in his ears the last time they'd spoken. Jump her bones indeed.

"What are you doing here, Ensign Monroe?" Jim asked. "You're supposed to come on the next transport to look at the city infrastructures."

"The demolitions expert you wanted is laid up in Sickbay, Sir."

"And you're certified as a demolitions expert and can replace him?"

"Of course not, Captain. I'm sharp as tack but didn't receive any kind of demolitions training. However, I do understand all the stress points in buildings. If they've hidden bombs in the factory, I can point you in the right direction by telling you where they would do the most structural damage. I'm also certified in advanced hand to hand combat."

"All right, you can come. Cupcake, you got those phasers I asked you to bring?"

Breath whooshed out of Bones' lungs when Jim agreed to take her along. It wasn't that he disliked her, but if she froze in the middle of combat and Jim got hurt protecting her… He didn't want to finish that thought. Everyone deserved a shot to prove themselves. Everyone deserved a second chance. Extending that courtesy to Ritha was just a little more dangerous than someone who wasn't overcoming a track record of flightiness.

"I was twelve, Bones," she said in a voice softer than the tone she normally used. "There was a bad storm happening when thugs sent by a rival corporation broke into our apartment. At first, my father refused to hand over the plans to a turbine engine he was contracted to design. No matter how hard they hit him, he refused, so they started beating me. That's when he caved.

"Sometimes all I can remember is the thunder, the shouting, and the helplessness." She paused and squeezed her eyes closed as though caught in the grips of those memories. "So yeah, when there are loud noises I sometimes feel like I'm twelve again and forget to function. That's why I've turned down promotions, to try to keep myself from being given any command responsibility."

"Talk to Spock. There are therapies that can help you deal with it in a healthy way."

"I thought you were in charge of psychological duties on the ship."

"Yeah, but I can't keep myself from thinking about stealing your bones." He flashed a small grin and rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment, but before he could say more, Jim was shouting for the team to load up.

***

Whose idea was it again to access the plant through old school sewer tunnels that ran beneath the building? A pile of roaches crunched beneath Ritha's boot in a sickening squishing sound. Rats skittered across the narrow platform alongside the sewage ditch and disappeared around a bend when their lights illuminated an area. The worst, though, was the smell. Supposedly the sewage tunnels hadn't been used in several decades. Could have fooled her, because the scent of rotten sewage made her want to gag.

The next time she got the bright idea to volunteer for a mission, someone needed to crack her over the head with a twenty-four millimeter socket wrench. Shower, aisle three. She didn't voice her complaints when no one else was complaining and kept up with the group's progress through the tunnels. Another wriggling pile of roaches crunched under foot, and her eyes squeezed closed when she thought she felt something drop down the back of her uniform shirt. _It's all in your head, Ritha_, she said to herself. It was all in her head until Cupcake, whose real name she knew to be Paul Brighton, ground the heel of his palm against her back. Something squished into her skin.

"I don't wanna know," she whispered.

"No, you don't," he whispered back.

The cockroach moisturizer Paul had just introduced her to was forgotten the instant Captain Kirk stopped in front of a rusty ladder beneath a manhole cover. A nod from Spock, whose hands were full of a portable schematics finder, was all they needed to know it was show time, so Ritha eased her phaser from its holster and glanced down at the charge to ensure it had full power. There was no turning back when Kirk, being the hothead he was, insisted on climbing the ladder first to slip into the factory.

She followed Bones up when it was her turn and immediately took cover behind a large turbine where she craned her head to get a look at the interior of the factory. The layout was simple. One giant room was crammed with various machines, conveyor belts, and pallets loaded with crates, providing plenty of cover for any enemies within. Along the opposite wall were positioned several large bay doors and docks for the loading and unloading of hover vehicles. The back wall was dominated by a series of metal stairs leading to a glass wall through which she could see an office area. Said stairs also led to a series of catwalks suspended in the upper section of the warehouse.

Finding the alleged terrorists amidst all the clutter was going to be challenging. There were so many places for them to hide that would nullify any element of surprise. She flinched when a loud bang came from the direction of the stairwell and echoed through the factory interior. A moment later, a pair of men, carrying a crate between them, climbed the stairs toward the office. She wasn't an expert by any means but would be willing to bet that crate contained an explosive device.

Her glance shot to the captain to see if he was preparing for action yet, but Kirk seemed to be content to hold his silence for the time being. She discovered why a moment later when the pair of men made a series of whistles that were responded to by whistles in other areas of the factory. The end of the brief exchange was punctuated by Spock holding up seven fingers, which she presumed was to indicate the number of enemies they were facing. Seven against six were pretty even odds, she figured, especially considering the six Starfleet personnel were highly organized and trained.

Spock was the one who moved first when he stood up and walked around the industrial grinder he'd been hiding behind to say, "By Federation Regulation A29.32, you are hereby ordered to surrender yourselves into custody for questioning."

There was a moment of silence in which all activity in the factory stopped. It was broken when one of the men shouted, "Scatter!"

All Hell broke loose. Ritha bailed out from behind the turbine when men rushed their position, because it was either move or be caught in a cramped area where fighting was ill-advised. A roll brought her in range of one of the terrorists and gave her the opportunity to take a shot at him with her phaser. The phaser should have stunned him. It impacted on his chest right where she wanted it to, but he didn't so much as flinch. Two hundred pounds of angry man was suddenly charging her.

"Phasers are no good!" Jim shouted from across the factory.

Really? She hadn't guessed that at all. Rather than bracing for impact, she spun out of the way at the last moment and brought her doubled fists smacking against the back of the man's neck. A move like that should have snapped his neck or at least flung him forward on his face and given her the opportunity to put distance between them. The blow did neither. In fact, he didn't even seem phased by it, and she didn't have the chance to get that much-needed distance.

His meaty hand snatched her by the shoulder before she could get away. Desperate not to get flung across the room like a rag doll, she slammed the heel of her palm against his face with enough force it snapped his head back, but he didn't release her. Not even when she sent her knee crashing against his soft stomach could she stop the inevitable. The man threw her away from him hard. Her short flight was put to an immediate halt when she smacked into a solid wall of metal and found herself in a heap on the floor.

Pain made her ribs ache, made getting up a little more difficult, and made finding her feet precious seconds slower than she needed to be. Blue eyes flew wide when the enemy grabbed up a length of rebar from a pile of scrap metal. Getting hit with that would mean broken bones or death, so keeping her own head on her shoulders was more important than playing hero when Jim shouted for Bones to get to Spock.

Ritha dropped to the floor and rolled under the nearby conveyor belt. Popping up on the other side proved just as dangerous when another terrorist hit the control housing not two feet from her. The control panel lit up as it came out of its sleep state, giving her a truly awful idea, but by that point, the man she'd been facing off against had rounded the machine to join the one quickly recovering from his recent impact.

"Paul, cover me!" she shouted to the chief security officer.

"Don't get any crazy ideas. Those are reserved for Cupcake Junior."

"I think crazy is called for in this situation."

The brief exchange ended with Paul rushing the two men--like that was any less crazy than any plan she could come up with--and Ritha diving around them to get to the control panel. She punched in a series of commands on the touch screen to override all previous settings and then slapped her hand against the start-up icon. The conveyor belt kicked on in a hum that was quickly drowned out by the groaning of the heavy metal blades activating. A truly awful idea indeed, but it was their fault for not surrendering when Spock had asked them to.

Paul was under pressure trying to hold them both off, so a roll took her up onto the conveyor where she blasted one of them with her phaser. The blast didn't hurt, but it sure did get his attention. He jumped up on the conveyor with her. Her brow knit for all of two seconds when she noticed a scratch on his cheek. Clear, blue liquid leaked from the gash. Spock's green blood proved not everyone in the universe bled red, but something in her gut didn't think it was normal.

She was poised to dance out of the way when the terrorist charged her, because all she had to do was stay out of his grasp until they got close enough to the blades for her to plan to be effective. Disaster struck. The sudden bang of metal against metal startled her just long enough for a solid shoulder to ram into her gut and fling her onto her back. He was on top of her a second later. Trying to throw him off and keep his hands from closing around her throat was a desperate struggle she had no time for. Guttural swishes of blades sweeping back and forth got louder with every second that was wasted.

There was zero time and little reserve left in her tank. Summoning the remnants of her strength, Ritha whacked him on the underside of his nose and was treated to a rather satisfying crunch of cartilage and bone giving way. It proved just enough of a distraction for her to unbalance him. She shoot to her feet, spun around the enemy, and delivered a kick to the center of his back that had him stumbling forward. He realized the danger too late to stop himself from being sucked into the blades.

Morbid fascination kept her from squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the sight of his body being mangled up inside the blades. Skin was shredded. Blue blood exploded inside the housing like a grape being popped underfoot. Metal broke… The conveyor she was standing on came to a shuddering halt when pieces of a metal skeleton became lodged in the path of the blades and activated a security stop override. A metal skeleton? Self-preservation bade her not move any closer to the blades to get a better look, but she'd be damned if there weren't broken and mangled pieces of metal skeleton inside that grinder chamber. Metal?

Shouts from the others who were still engaged in fighting kept her from standing there gawking while her brain tried to process what she'd just discovered. Pockets of fighting were still carrying on, so it wasn't like she could stand there with her thumb up her ass. Freaking robots! They were supposed to be fighting organic life forms, not flipping robots!

***

Bones grunted. One of Spock's legs was precariously positioned on his shoulder, the other stretched out to the side to accommodate Bones' body between them. Another frustrated sound escaped him as he thrust his weight against the underside of the thigh propped on his shoulder while simultaneously twisting the leg in an attempt to find just the right position to slide home. No dice. Spock's muscles were just too damn well-developed. They wouldn't unclench enough to allow Bones to complete the maneuver.

To make matters worse, Spock was staring at him with those big brown eyes of his all full of curiosity and trust. He wasn't blinking. Just staring silently. Damn that Vulcan control of his! Just once, he wanted Spock grunting, sweating, and swearing just like the rest of them.

"Quit looking at me, damnit!"

"Where else would you prefer I look, Doctor?"

"I don't know. Just stop watching me! This is uncomfortable enough as it is without you staring at me like I'm a juicy piece of Vulcan whatchamacallit. And don't roll your eyes at me, Goddamnit."

"A Vulcan does not engage in such a human display of annoyance as rolling one's eyes. Is there a more preferable position than this one? Perhaps if I were to turn over…"

"No! And you were thinking about rolling your eyes at me."

"I knew there was something funny about the way you two stare at each other," Jim suddenly said from behind them. "I just didn't expect this."

Another groan escaped him, because this was something the captain would never let them live down. He eased his grip on Spock's leg and snapped, "Oh shut up, Jim. I'm trying to pop his hip back into socket, something that would be a Hell of a lot easier if you weren't standing there cackling."

"Me? Cackle? It's just a shock when you round a corner to find two sweaty male bodies entwined together."

Ignoring Jim was best in a moment like this, so Bones blocked him out in favor of giving it one more go. He twisted the half-Vulcan's leg, leaned his weight onto the appendage, and then thrust hard against it. The leg gave suddenly and was followed by a popping and grinding sound as bone finally slid into place. Relief made him weak, because he hadn't wanted to administer sedatives and muscle relaxants in the field. He eased Spock's leg back to the floor and then got away from him as quickly as possible.

"Need a cigarette?" Jim asked.

The look he gave Jim could have melted an iceberg it was so hot with annoyance and anger. "Spock, you need to stay off your feet until the inflammation decreases. That means I don't want you running around this factory giggling like a schoolgirl just because you have a new toy to play with."

"Doctor McCoy, contrary to what you believe, I am capable of controlling any fascination I may have at the discovery that the alleged terrorists are androids."

"Well, I'm not," Jim said. "Did Tobra deliberately keep this information from us? Or did he honestly not know robots were being employed to attack their infrastructure? I'm leaning toward the former. How do you not know the people attacking you are robots? A normal person wonders why the enemy they're fighting is ten times stronger and a thousand times harder to kill."

"And the geeking out begins," Bones muttered. He gave Spock an anti-inflammatory and a mild pain killer before gathering up his medical kit.

"Jumping to conclusions is uncalled for here when their lack of law enforcement technology and experience with terrorist activity can account for being unaware of the true nature of the alleged terrorists."

"I think you can drop the 'alleged' now. If it smells like a terrorist, plants bombs like a terrorist, and tries to blow up food plants like a terrorist, it's a terrorist."

"Did you forget to take your anti-snark medicine today, Bones?"

"Gee, you know, I think I might have forgotten in between attending meetings, getting dragged through sewers, and having my head almost turned into a baseball by androids. I've got two dead security officers, one who's going to need the vertebrae in his neck stabilized, and a crazy engineer who almost got herself mangled. On top of that, I had to leg-rape a hobgoblin."

Bones would admit to being a little surprised when Jim gripped his shoulder instead of coming up with another joke and even more surprised by the comfort he took in the contact. Spock could have been killed. Jim could have been killed. What worried him more than that was the fear he'd felt when he'd seen Ritha trapped beneath one of the men and barreling toward blades that would have sliced her and diced her like an onion. No woman was supposed to be anywhere near as important to him as Jim except Joanna, and she didn't count because she was his daughter. He was grateful Jim didn't make a big deal out of the touchy-feely moment.

"Spock, does the level of Istabul technology allow for the making of androids?"

"It is conceivable. However, such technological advancement should have been disclosed on their application for Federation membership."

"Let's get our wounded and dead out of here. Monroe is body-bagging the android you dropped with a crane for further study, and it looks like we need to pay another visit to President Tobra. I want some answers. If he knew about this and failed to warn us so we could properly prepare, there'll be Hell to pay."

"Such a meeting should wait for a few days to allow us to study these androids and determine just how advanced they are," Spock said.

"No, we're going straight back to the Federation building and dragging him out of bed if that's what's necessary. I want to see him right-the-fuck-now."

And as per usual, Bones had to step in and be the mitigating voice between Spock's logic and Jim's visceral emotions. "Give it until tomorrow morning, Jim. Let Spock and the other science officers and engineers have tonight to study the damn things. One night, Jim. You can keep a lid on it for one night."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The line of lyrics that appears is from Hinder's "Get Stoned."

* * *

Chapter 6

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Bones tried to ignore the sounds coming from one of the Enterprise's many science labs, but it was such a wailing noise he couldn't help but wonder if someone was being murdered. There were no sounds of a struggle. No one came running out of the room screaming and covered in blood, but obviously someone was skinning a cat in there. A masochist, that's what he was when he approached the door to find out just what was going on inside. No, he'd been a masochist to stay married to the ex for so long. Getting closer to the grating sound was just plain stupidity.

"Let's go home and get stoned. We could end up making love instead of misery. Go home and get stoned, 'cause the sex is so much better when you're mad at me!"

Oh God, was that singing? Yowling was a better word for it. Combine every karaoke singer he'd heard during the four months he'd spent haunting bars after his divorce and Chekov playing the latest version of Rock Band and that summed up the sounds currently responsible for making his ears scream in protest. From the sound of it, the singer was female. She should be put out of her misery, which would in turn put everyone within a one mile radius out of their misery. Either he was going to adhere her mouth shut or remove her vocal cords until she signed a contract never to sing outside of her shower ever again.

Rational thought was beamed off-planet after the door swished open to allow him to step inside. Five foot eight inches of Ritha Monroe were bent over an android body in a uniform skirt and a white tank top. If he craned his neck hard enough he might catch a glimpse of panties. Good God, what was he doing?! He was thinking about stealing her bones again, that's what he was doing.

Considering all the blood in his head had rushed south, it took him a minute to connect the dots, that Ritha was the one doing the caterwauling, and that the poor thing couldn't sing worth a damn. There was a minor argument between his southern region and his ears as to which was more important, because getting her to stop singing would make her stand up and ruin the fine view he had. The decision was taken from him when she abruptly stood and started speaking into her handheld.

"Scotty, I can't wait until you're on your feet. You've got to see this. This technology is so far beyond what we've studied. We're talking nanotechnology here!"

"Just as soon as I can charm Westin into signing my release forms, I'll be sure to pop by to see what you've got on your hands, Lass. You said they're exterior is indistinguishable from Istabulians? That's pretty impressive."

"We have androids on Earth, but they're nothing like this. We're talking artificial muscle and ligaments that look and function exactly like in an organic life form. The interior is filled with some kind of fluid that's swimming with microscopic nanochips."

"You know, all my favorite engineers bring me samples to look at while I'm laid up," Scotty crooned. "You're one of my absolute favorites."

"Uh huh, and Davis will be your absolute favorite next week. The week after, it'll be Schweizer. You're so full of it."

"But you love me anyway."

"But I love you any…" Her comment ended in a soft shout when she turned in Bones' direction.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I heard someone rattling around in here and thought I'd see who it was at this hour," Bones said by way of an apology for startling her. He really should have announced his presence rather than standing there watching her like a love-struck git.

"Bones, don't you go giving my engineers heart attacks, especially when I'm charming 'em into bringing me samples to keep me from losing my ever-loving mind in this Sickbay."

"God, Babe, don't sneak up on people like that." The hand plastered to her heart dropped back down to her side.

"Babe?" Scotty and Bones said simultaneously.

Ritha rolled her eyes and commented, "So bring me up on sexual harassment charges. I'll stop by in the morning with some of the samples, Scotty. Don't give Westin too much trouble."

"Me? Cause trouble? You've got me mistaken for the captain. Be nice to my girl, Bones. You run her off, and I'll run you over."

"I think I can take care of myself, Scotty. Ritha out." A flick of her finger ended the connection, at which point she offered up one of her mind-melting smiles.

"What _are_ you doing up this late studying that thing? It's not like it couldn't wait until tomorrow."

"Are you kidding me? A piece of advanced technology is in my hands, and you expect me not to be too excited to sleep? There's no way I could have slept until I came down here and had a peek. The captain has given me permission to perform the initial studies as long as I record all my findings and don't damage the body until Commander Spock has a chance to look at it."

Could he help it if his glance dropped from her face once or twice? He wasn't such a pervert he didn't comprehend what she said. "I get that way when there's a new diagnosis to make. Have you at least eaten since returning to the ship?"

"Duh. Advanced alien technology at my fingertips? Who's got time for food?" She rubbed her hands together, an action accompanied by a rather euphoric expression.

"Now that you've satisfied some of your curiosity, do you want to hit the mess hall with me? I owe you a dinner for having you in my office."

"Hey, I'd forgotten about that, but you're right. You do owe me dinner."

"You, uh, might want to put on a jacket first. There's always someone in the mess hall no matter what time it is." He glanced pointedly at her chest so she couldn't mistake why he was recommending a jacket.

A blonde brow arched when she followed his glance, a bit of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. Rather than commenting on it, she grabbed a uniform jacket that was draped over a chair and tugged it on to fasten it closed over her breasts. "Better?"

"Depends on what body part you're asking," he muttered.

There was enough southern gentleman left in him that he offered her his arm to escort her to the mess hall. A few people were inside at such a late hour, but the place was quiet and the lighting muted in a way that made it feel intimate. Digital menus at each table flashed messages that the kitchen was closed, meaning they would have to get their own meal from the replicators. Replicator food was decent. Nothing beat a home-cooked meal, though, and they had one of the best catering staffs in Starfleet. Neither spoke until they were seated at a table near the exit with their plates.

"So why did you get a divorce?"

The blunt question almost made him choke on a bite of his spinach ravioli. "You sure don't believe in breaking the ice first, do you."

"Not really. Life's too short to worry about offending people, but if you don't want to answer the question, I won't twist your arm."

"I like bluntness unless I'm dealing with Spock or Jim. Why did I end up divorced? Complex question. Jocelyn and me married young. I was right out of medical school and starting my internship when we met, and we were married six months after that. You now how it goes. Late nights, early mornings, and we barely got to see each other. She complained about being left home alone with Joanna constantly while I worked. So when we did have time together, it was spent arguing."

"Joanna is…" She let it trail off so he could fill in the blank.

"Our daughter. She's five next April."

"You have a kid? I wouldn't have pegged you as the father type."

"I'm not. Jocelyn got everything in the divorce, including custody. Every time I try to see Joanna, they're conveniently out of town."

"Well that's horseshit. You're a Starfleet celebrity for God's sake. Surely you can use that to your advantage and pressure her into sticking with the visitation rights. What we need is a PR campaign. Let's drag her name through the mud and ruin her in polite society. That'll start a fire under her butt."

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe Joanna's better off without me in her life. I'm not exactly the huggable kind of person."

"Neither is my dad, but I couldn't imagine life without him. A girl wants her father whether he plays with dolls with her or is grumpy. Do you want to run the risk of waking up ten years from now and regretting not having a relationship with her?"

"I don't know. It's all screwed up."

"Then let's unscrew it."

He nodded while pushing his food around on the plate. The least he could do was force the custody issue so his parents could see their granddaughter. They deserved that, and then he could sort out whether or not his paternal feelings were best in or out of Joanna's life.

"What about you?" he finally asked. "Got any kids or exes hiding in the closet?"

"I can't have kids. This guy I'd been dating for about a year turned out to be a real douche. He ended up giving me Chlamydia which turned into pelvic inflammatory disease. I got pregnant a while later and ended up having an ectopic pregnancy that had to be aborted. Doctors say I have a extremely high risk of having another ectopic pregnancy because of the damage to my fallopian tubes."

The way she said it so matter-of-factly just made him feel for her all the more. He settled a hand over hers. "I can't guarantee there's anything I can do to fix it, but if you want, I'll run some tests and look into it for you."

"I've gotten used to the idea over the years. It's having the choice taken away that hurts the most, you know. Anyhow, if I ever decide to retire and want kids, I can adopt. There are hundreds of thousands of kids in the universe who need good families."

"A lot of people have probably suggested a lot of different coping mechanisms, probably given you the whole 'I'm sorry' speech too, but I'm not going to. If you want kids, it sucks, but you don't need kids to be fulfilled as a woman. Your identity is not based on your reproductive capabilities."

A small smile played on her lips before she said, "You're the second person who's said that, but to be fair, the first person was my neo-feminist roommate at MIT who thought we should develop artificial wombs and then kill off all men."

"Gotta love extremism. Is the douche of an ex still alive?"

"As far as I know. My dad came to the hospital while they were pumping me full of antibiotics and told me he'd taken care of him. All he said was that Cecil was still alive but wouldn't ever bother me again."

"Your dad sounds like a good guy. What happened with him and your mom?"

"He was a workaholic. She was a socialite. She divorced him because she wasn't getting enough emotional satisfaction. In reality it was more like 'I found a new guy who has more money and a bigger title.' Now she's married to Admiral Westin and loves nothing more than trying to marry her daughters off to some prestigious family."

The statement wasn't what made him laugh, it was the unnecessary crude gestures punctuating her comment. "She should have seen you earlier today with all the blue gunk in your hair. If you ever do get married, I dare you to walk down the aisle covered in engineering grease."

"And nothing but engineering grease?" She winked at him.

It had been a long time since Bones had met someone who could totally make him lose track of time. She was so animated and expressive when she talked that it was kind of hypnotic watching her. She was always gesticulating or leaning closer to him as though terribly interested in what he had to say. Then there was her laughter. There was none of the feminine twittering, coyness, or attempts at laughing in a ladylike manner, which had been Jocelyn's big thing. Ritha's laugh was genuine, even in response to his bad jokes.

Here was a woman who made him feel attractive in a way he hadn't felt since he'd first met Jocelyn and not just because she stroked his male ego. In certain ways, she made him feel like a man again rather than just a doctor, a divorcee, or the guy everyone said "man, how can you tolerate being Jim's roommate" to. He had a shift in the morning but suddenly didn't give a damn that he was thirty-one and couldn't pull all-nighters the way he had in medical school and the Academy. Giving a damn meant he'd have to go bed, and that meant he would have to give up her company.

The chiming of her handheld communicator and data organizer suddenly interrupted a story she was telling about having climbed a flagpole without underwear. "My God, is it really that time? My shift starts in twenty minutes. I need to get back to my quarters, grab a shower, and get ready."

Disappointment put a damper on what had otherwise been a great night. He stood up and deposited their empty plates into the nearby recycler so the molecules could be broken down and reformed into sanitized dishes. Asking to accompany her back to her quarters was on the tip of his tongue when he realized how sappy that would sound. She was a Starfleet officer. She didn't need him to escort her around the ship.

The decision was taken out of his hands when she asked, "You wanna walk me back to my room? Someone needs to protect me from the raging ball of hormone that is an eighteen year old Chekov."

And he was laughing again while offering her his arm. "I think Chekov can control himself. It's the captain you need to be worried about." Total sap oozed from him when she curled her arm through his, but the sap couldn't account for his racing pulse.

"I'm not worried about Jim. He's sniffing after my sister. You should probably know ahead of time that if he hurts her, they're going to have to court martial me."

The halls were just starting to fill up with people ready to start their day, so Bones waited until after he'd guided her onto a nearby lift to respond. "Jim takes his responsibilities to this crew seriously. As far as I know, he hasn't had any dalliances with members of the crew before, so he's not going to hurt her. You and Stella really need to talk, though. You're sisters for the love of God. Whatever bullshit your parents like to spew doesn't have to carry on between you two."

"I know," she said. "We're going to work on our relationship, but I can't guarantee things will change overnight."

Bones was willing to leave it at that since the lift doors were opening. A knot of people waited outside to squeeze aboard, so he hurried his companion out of the lift and down a hall that was lined on either side by standard gray doors. The deck was made up mostly of quarters reserved for ensigns. Apparently Starfleet thought ensigns were sardines to cram so many into a relatively small space. Their quarters were tiny, consisting of a room with a small bed, the standard table and chairs, a small closet, and a lavatory facilities. His quarters looked like the Taj Mahal in comparison.

"This is it," Ritha said when she stopped in front of a door marked as two thirty-nine. Her hands busied themselves fiddling with the hem of her jacket.

Wasn't it supposed to mean something when a woman fiddled after being escorted to her door? For the life of him, he couldn't remember, so Bones offered a smile. "Don't work too hard. You don't want to prolong your ribs from healing by overdoing it."

The ensign's sigh sounded almost disappointed, but her tone was normal when she said, "You too, Bones."

He was left standing in the hall when she pressed her thumb against the pad to gain access feeling as though he'd just made some colossal mistake. Bones turned on his heel. In fact, he was a handful of steps down the hall when it dawned on him what her fiddling had meant. She'd been waiting for him to kiss her as though the past several hours really had been a date in her mind rather than just dinner with a co-worker or friend. _You stupid idiot,_ he said to himself. Feelings he hadn't known were left after his nasty divorce got all mixed up inside like someone had tossed him in a blender.

Turning on his heel, Bones marched right back to Ritha's quarters and pressed the chime. This could be the stupidest idea he'd ever come up with, but not going back to her room was something he might regret the rest of his life. If she was already in the shower, he'd hot-foot back to Sickbay where he belonged. Then door swished open. She was standing there in the doorway looking at him with a curious expression.

"You forget something?" she asked.

"Shut up," he returned without really thinking about what he was saying.

A step took him inside and allowed the door to close behind him. Before she could say another word, Bones cupped the nape of her neck and lowered his lips to hers. Jim could have called a red alert and he might not have noticed, although he'd liked to think he would have. Her lips were smooth, her mouth yielding. The hand she fisted on his shirt was tight in one of those unspoken signals that she just might rob him of his dignity if he tried to pull away.

There was no reason for her to worry on that account, because pulling away was the farthest thing from his mind. Deepening the kiss, on the other hand, was much more pressing. Was it a world-shattering kiss? As far as his crotch was concerned, yeah. Did it make him want to get naked with her? Duh, he was a man with a willing woman pressed up against him. Did he have any intention of letting it go that far? Of course not. He was a little fuzzy on just what she was expecting from him. A relationship wasn't something he was sure he was ready for.

Groaning, Bones dipped his tongue into the bliss that was her mouth once more before breaking the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers while both struggled to take in a proper breath and ease the sudden pounding of their hearts. Great! A cold shower was just what he needed to start the day. He could hear Montgomery's Scottish brogue in his head. _That'll wake ye up in the mornin'! _

Ritha was the first one who stirred. "I can't think of a better excuse for being late. Technically, I'm the acting CO of engineering at the moment, so I guess that means I could show up whenever I want."

"I've got patients waiting," he muttered.

"And I guess they can't wait for you to drag yourself into Sickbay whenever you want."

Something about the way she said it made sirens go off in his head. She didn't care that they hadn't talked about where they stood on relationships. No questions about whether or not they even should get involved? Or maybe it was just instinctive fear at how much he enjoyed her company. Whatever the reason, Bones snapped before he could figure out just what he was feeling.

"So what? You're just going to jump into bed with me and to Hell with the consequences?" Even he could admit his tone was a little on the condescending side.

"God, you make it sound like I'm a slut or something."

Figuring out how to say what he wanted to say, how to tell her he was a little on the old-fashioned side and didn't want to get involved unless both of them understood just how far they were each willing to take things must have taken longer than she expected.

She filled in the blanks herself and far too quickly. "Well fine, if that's the way you feel about me, don't let your big head get squashed in the door on the way out, _Babe._"

The urge to call her back when she turned and disappeared into the bathroom almost overpowered him. Everything was wrong. But the biggest culprit in this whole unexpected mess was his own head. Ritha was dangerous. She was the kind of woman he could quickly become infatuated with, and Bones didn't like the idea of sticking his hand in a bear trap again. Why bother anyway? All women were fundamentally the same. They all wanted to be the center of a man's universe. He had way too much cluttering up the center of his universe for some whiney creature to come in and do some spring cleaning just his world would revolve around her and her alone.

He left quietly, perplexed, perturbed, and itching to get into another one of his rows with Spock.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A headache. That was just the thing Jim wanted to deal with before their meeting with Tobra. He pressed his fingers against his temples, the constant drone of people coming and going from the busy café inside Federation headquarters only adding to the pressure building in his skull. He'd wanted to storm the president's office yesterday evening after the skirmish at the factory, but Bones and Spock had both advised against it. Something about cooler heads prevailing and catching more bees with honey than with vinegar.

They had two dead security officers! And one was laid up in Sickbay undergoing surgery to stabilize the crushed vertebrae in his neck. Why? Because Tobra was an idiot who couldn't tell the difference between inhuman strength and android strength. He hadn't docked on this planet to get his crew killed after they'd survived the Klingon battle. His crew trusted him to make them as safe as possible in space. Now two of them were dead.

Not even looking at all the women standing in long lines in front of digital menus made him feel better. The fact that Bones and Spock had been bickering like an old married couple the entire morning certainly hadn't helped either. Clobbering them both over the head was sounding better and better. They bickered, but this was different. It was like Bones had a thorn in his proverbial paw that needed to be yanked out, and the only way of yanking it was to pick a fight with Spock.

"Spock, just order something and get out of the damn way. People want coffee before they get dragged into another meeting about android terrorists, which is only slightly higher on my bucket list than giving ET a prostate exam," grouched Bones, who was currently second in line at the digital menu.

The half-Vulcan's eyebrow elevated. "Considering you were not so impatient you acquired the position of first in line, you can hardly gripe about the amount of time it takes for me to input my order."

"Well maybe if you'd order something normal instead of half-caf Toravasian tea with the leaves steeped for precisely two minutes thirty-one point four seconds at one hundred three degrees of heat--and don't forget the sprinkle of clove--other people could get their coffee and go about their business. Green-blooded hobgoblins and their damned sensitive taste buds." He muttered the last under his breath.

"You are quite correct, Doctor McCoy, in coming to the conclusion my palate is far more refined than that which is required to enjoy Kentucky Fried Chicken."

"Are you calling me a southern redneck?"

"Is such not a complimentary statement of your heritage?"

"Both of you stop it," Jim finally snapped. "What the Hell crawled up your nose last night, Bones? And don't give me the whole 'nothing's wrong' speech. Women are the passive-aggressive ones, not us men."

"It's personal."

"You should feel free to speak about any personal issues with us. In my experience, humans feel a measure of peace when they share their grievances with their comrades," Spock said, finally moving away from the digital menu to retrieve his order from a harried waitress at the front counter.

"What Spock said. Either you bottle it up and continue acting like a rabid hyena, in which case I might be forced to take action against whomever decks you, or you tell us what's up."

The good doctor shot furtive glances around the interior of the café as though looking for a place to hide, as though all he wanted to do was crawl into the nearest hole. Apparently there was no where to run, because he finally responded, "I spent last night with Ritha. Wipe that look off your face, Jim, all we did was kiss."

"Wait a second. Let me get this straight. You're in a crappy mood because you kissed an attractive woman? Okay, so maybe her rack is a bit on the lacking side, but other than that, she is attractive."

"There's nothing wrong with the size of her breasts, Goddamnit, and stop equating her worth as a woman with how she looks!"

Jim had never seen Bones blush before, but the man was obviously taken aback by his outburst. It was kind of cute Bones was getting all defensive on Ritha's behalf.

"I believe what Jim was trying to ascertain is why your temperament has turned foul after sharing an intimacy with a woman you find attractive when she obviously returns your affections."

"Because all women are the same. They want your world to revolve around them. Who cares if you're responsible for a busy Sickbay? Who gives a crap if you have patients waiting for you? Women don't care about your responsibilities. Their needs should come before anything else in your life."

"You got all that from one kiss. Man, you must be telepathic or something."

"Express your concerns to her, Bones," Spock said. "Given your experiences with your ex-wife and the resulting divorce, it is possible you are prescribing Jocelyn's faults to Ensign Monroe. Allow Ensign Monroe the opportunity to assuage your fears."

A female voice interrupted further conversation when the intercom system was turned on to allow her to say, "Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock, and Doctor Leonard McCoy, please report to the thirteenth floor."

"God, I feel like I'm in high school again," Jim said.

He hadn't even had a chance to get his coffee yet! Abandoning the idea of ever getting caffeine in his system, Jim left the café. Between android-making terrorists, Spock's impending fatherhood, and Bones' intimacy problems, he felt like he was on the set of one of those God awful soap operas women loved so much. _Like dust particles in space, these are the days of our lives, _Jim said to himself.

Jong Je was waiting for them outside the president's office, his expression one that was seen countless times on the faces of people at funerals when talking to relatives of the deceased. It said "I sympathize with the pain you're going through but have no idea what to say and will forget that someone just died as soon as I get in my vehicle." Some things were universal apparently.

"Welcome," Jong Je said while bowing formally. "President Tien To Tobra will see you now. On a personal level, I wish to convey my sorrow that two of your crew members were forced to sacrifice themselves for our cause."

"Thanks, Jong Je," Jim said.

The man shuddered at the use of an informal nickname but apparently felt so bad for the recent deaths he didn't correct Jim. "If there is some ceremony involved with a death in your culture, please inform me so I may attend and honor them."

"We're planning a wake. Basically, it's a type of party where we drink to celebrate the life and accomplishments of the dead. I'll let you know when it's scheduled for."

"It would be a great honor for me to attend on behalf of the people of Istabul Major." That said, Jong Je pressed a chime on the door.

Jim didn't wait for a formal invitation from the president, who was seated behind a desk piled high with data pads and old-fashioned paper and file folders. All the frustration of yesterday's skirmish and the death of his crew members bubbled back to the surface, so he grabbed the case Spock had been carrying, marched over to the president's desk, and set it down on top of the papers Tobra was going over. He flipped open the lid to reveal one of the android heads, its skin peeled back to expose a gleaming metal skull.

Tobra's reaction was instantaneous. He shoved back from his desk so quickly his chair rolled into the wall behind him. His wide eyes were focused solely on the contents of the case in front of him. His breathing was sharp. The man seemed genuinely startled.

"Tell me you didn't know the terrorists were employing androids in their attacks. Tell me you didn't knowingly withhold this information, which led to us being ill-prepared to fight them and in turn led to the death of two of my crew members."

The president's glance finally flicked away from the android head to look at Jim. He said, "This… You're telling me you fought this at the factory last night? This is an android."

"Good way to state the obvious," Bones said. "Captain Kirk asked you a question. Did you know about this before sending us to that factory?"

"No! Why would I withhold information like that? Why would I send you to what could have easily been your deaths when you have been good enough to help us?"

"So you were unaware your technology was being used to fabricate androids?" asked Spock in his subtle "I'm about to judge every word you say and precisely how you say it" tone of voice.

"There used to be an R&D division my father contracted to research the development of viable androids when he was emperor, but the program was shut down decades ago due to lack of funding and public interest. Captain Kirk, I am sorry for the death of your crew members, but I did not know this was happening. I will swear it in front of a Federation tribunal, but most importantly, I swear it to you."

A heavy breath rushed out of Jim before he sank into one of the chairs across the president's desk. Tobra's concern and ardor seemed real. There hadn't been a split second between opening the case and Tobra reacting to it as one would expect for someone who'd known about the androids ahead of time. He raked fingers through his hair. Damn, he needed some flipping caffeine.

"You say there used to be a division dedicated to researching androids. We want every file, every scrap of information, on that division as soon as possible. Maybe someone associated with the division doesn't like Federation presence here and is a member of Sovereign Istabul," Jim said.

"I'll have my assistant gather everything we have and send it to the Enterprise by the end of the day. How advanced are these androids?"

"Without an active unit to study, it is impossible for us to determine just how advanced they are. However, our scientists and engineers have determined they are far more advanced than other specimens we have thus far encountered. They possess a highly complex structural system, are capable of making autonomous decision based on outside stimulus, and also possess a rudimentary nerve center, which allows them to interact with their surroundings, and perhaps make decision based on those interactions, through a sense of touch."

"And there aren't any manufacturing logos of serial numbers on the units or the parts used to make them, so even though we all know Sovereign Istabul is producing these, we have no concrete facts," Jim concluded.

Tobra took a moment to process the information before saying, "Captain Kirk, I understand if you wish to revoke your offer to assist us in light of how dangerous these androids obviously are, however, I hope you won't. My people aren't prepared to fight something like this. Their safety rests on your decision."

"I don't think you quite understand, President. Two of my crew members are dead because of Sovereign Istabul and these androids. I'm not going to let that go unpunished. Period. End of story."

"Thank you," the president said, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as though relieved. "Then what is your next course of action?"

"In this situation, it is only logical we engage in a full investigation of Sovereign Istabul to determine who the leaders are and where their base of operations is located."

"At which point we should nuke the bastards."

"Jim, launching a nuclear warhead, even with containment protocols enacted, is a bit-"

"Excessive?" Bones finished.

"Yeah, you're both probably right. I guess we'll be going with the full scale investigation then even though it could take months to complete, months in which the body count could increase."

"Evorn En Elim will be joining us shortly, since you requested access to all the evidence we've gathered. While we wait, I'll have my secretary bring us coffee."

Caffeine! If his temples pounded any harder, he was going to put his head in a vice just to get rid of it, but at least one problem had been solved. Tobra had known nothing about the androids before sending them to the factory, a relief since Jim actually kinda liked the guy. Anyone who defied conventional formality because they had the foresight to know how stupid it was got a gold star on their homework in his book. If Tobra was off the hook, then why his gut churning with some strange sense of apprehension?

***

"I'm an idiot," Ritha bemoaned quietly into her cup of coffee in the mess hall where she'd joined Stella and Nyota for dinner. The dinner hour for first shift crew members meant the mess hall was crammed to capacity with people winding down from their day. Wait staff rushed in and out of the kitchens delivering trays of food to hungry diners, and the comforting sounds of conversations and the clink of silverware against plates created a pleasant feeling. That pleasant sense was more than welcome after last night's fiasco and the day she'd had.

She continued, "I'm a boneheaded moron. Single-celled critters are more intelligent and have better people-reading skills than I do."

"Do you want to enlighten us on just why you're so stupid you should have been drowned in a bucket at birth?" Stella asked.

"Other than the fact that you agreed to a transfer to the Enterprise and got yourself stuck working on the Bulta power grids and making repairs to the ship in the same day," Nyota said after swallowing her bite of dinner.

"Don't remind me. I spent the entire morning up to my eyeballs in fried circuits and pentonium conductors." Her back ached like someone had beaten her with a hammer, and that wasn't even mentioning her ribs. Stella had informed her after another scan last night they were almost fully mended, a shock considering she'd spent yesterday getting her ass handed to her by androids.

"I spent the whole day running samples on the poison that was introduced to Bulta's water sanitation system. On top of it, I had Bones hovering over my shoulder like a great big vulture waiting for me to make a mistake."

"My day was filled with repairing our communications infrastructure while intermittently running for the nearest recycler to heave my guts up."

"You win," Stella and Ritha said simultaneously.

"I thought you might say that," Nyota said with a smile.

"How's Scotty? I think every engineer on this ship danced a jig when the orderlies brought him down for a visit this afternoon. If he doesn't come back to work soon, Keenser is planning to bust him out of Sickbay."

"I'd like to keep him for another day or two just to make sure his system won't reject the skin grafts. If he'd been burned that badly a century ago, he'd end up scarred the rest of his life. Now, why don't you tell us why you think you're a moron?"

She raked her fingers through her hair, a banana brownie sundae on the digital menu calling her in a way that became overpowering. God knew she deserved some chocolate and ice cream after permanently lodging her foot in her mouth this morning. Maybe it would overpower the taste of sock. The order was placed before she really thought about the calorie intake. A girl deserved chocolate in times like this!

"That bad, huh? When a woman orders chocolate it's time to put protective padding on the walls." commented Nyota.

"Look, I don't normally kiss and tell, so whatever I say doesn't leave this table, okay?" At their nods, she quickly filled them in on everything that had happened, including the part where she'd royally screwed up by jumping to the conclusion Bones had called her a slut. She didn't want to count the number of times she'd done the same thing in the past. One would think she would eventually learn her lesson.

"Well, he kind of did make it sound that way," Stella announced. "Men are so freaking hypocritical. When Jim jumps in bed with a woman, he's considered experienced. If a woman knows what she wants and does the same thing, she's labeled a slut. Some stereotypes don't die no matter how old they are."

"I don't think it had anything to do with actually thinking she was a slut or looking down on her for it. You have to remember that Bones trusts women about as far as he could throw Spock. He was probably confused and scared about what he was feeling."

"I know, that's why I'm such an idiot! You don't just seduce a guy like Bones into giving you a piece of ass without letting him know ahead of time you're not expecting anything deeper from it."

"Is that all you want from him?" asked Nyota.

Ritha shrugged. "I don't do committed relationships well. The guys I've fallen for in the past prove I have a bad track record, so I was just looking to have some fun with him, maybe see if there's something deeper there, but nothing serious."

"Why don't you do committed relationships well?"

"That's a topic for another day, Sis. Now there's going to be awkwardness every time I have to be around Bones."

"So apologize," Nyota concluded.

"They should both apologize. Bones could have explained himself instead of leaving it the way he did."

Apologizing sounded like the best route to take to keep the awkwardness on the lowest scale possible, so Ritha shifted the conversation away from herself when she asked, "So how are you adjusting to being pregnant?"

Lieutenant Uhura didn't respond at first. Her smooth brow furrowed. Her nostrils flared as though trying to pick up on some subtle smell in the air. "Do you two smell anything?"

"Um, I smell an incoming banana brownie sundae," Ritha supplied helpfully when she saw a waitress approaching their table.

Only the waitress didn't look well. The woman looked a little green around the gills and paused to mop at her brow with the sleeve of her uniform. A man shot from his chair to catch her around the waist when she started sinking to the floor. Not even a second later, several others collapsed at their tables. That was when Ritha felt the first effects of a gut-grinding queasiness take hold of her.

"Sensors detect unauthorized air-born anomaly. We are enacting containment protocol and elevating status to yellow alert," Chekov's voice could be heard saying over the intercom systems. "All crew members required to wear oxygen masks."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Nyota!" Stella shouted before lunging across the table to wrap her arms around Nyota's shoulders so the woman wouldn't fall face-first in her salad. "Ritha, cover your nose and mouth with your shirt. We have to get oxygen masks and then get to Sickbay."

Flashing yellow lights activated in the mess hall as Ritha launched herself to her feet and wound an arm around Nyota's waist to help Stella with her. Chaos was erupting inside. People were either collapsing from the effects of the gas or running for the emergency supplies locker on the other side of the room where there would be oxygen masks waiting. At least Starfleet had thought of this possibility when they'd decided to install fire extinguishers and oxygen masks in every room.

"Stella, get her and yourself down on the floor under the table. All the oxygen vents are in the ceiling. It'll take longer to reach you on the floor. I'll get us some masks."

"Just be careful! I don't want to have to call Mom and tell her you died of poison because you wanted to run off and play hero."

"Play hero? This is not about being a flipping hero! It's about you having the medical training to help her when I don't."

"You know what? Now might not be the best time for this!" Stella shouted.

Ritha gave her that point. Now wasn't the time for more bickering. "Just get on the floor and stay under the table so no one tramples you."

Tugging the collar of her uniform shirt up over her nose and mouth, Ritha took off across the mess hall. Getting there was more of a challenge than she would have liked just from the sheer number of people all herding in the same direction at the same time. She loved all the crew. Everyone deserved to get an oxygen mask, but at some point, one had to set priorities. The lives of her sister and her friend were infinitely more important to her than everyone else in the room.

So she chose option two. Rather than shoving her way through the crowd of people in front of the emergency supplies locker, she beat-feet for the door to race into the hallway. Others were rushing out of nearby entertainment rooms with their masks already in place to get to their stations, but shoving through them was much easier than fighting the other crowd. The cinema's locker was empty. The game room, the pool area, and the holodeck foyer turned up no oxygen masks left. Her last option was the gym, where she managed to lay hands on three masks. Go figure. The gym was the least populated area on the entire entertainment deck.

Nyota had roused by the time she made it back and was shouting something about contacting the captain, who was off-ship along with Bones, Spock, and Paul. Ritha didn't give her an option of complying. She merely jerked the mask on over the woman's mouth and nose and tossed Stella the other one, at which point, she shot to her feet.

"There are more masks in the gym if this locker is empty!"

"Nyota, you're going to Sickbay whether you like it or not. Ensign Chekov will have already ordered someone to contact the captain. Right now, I need to check you out, because we have no idea what effect this gas will have on your baby."

The lieutenant was a smart woman, one of the smartest Ritha had ever had the pleasure of knowing, so in the end, Nyota nodded and carefully got to her feet with Stella's help. "I can make it there on my own two feet. Let's go."

"Stella, are you all right?" she asked.

"My stomach feels like it's going to collapse on itself, but I'm conscious and thinking clearly," her sister responded.

"Can you get her to Sickbay without my help? I need to get down to Engineering and try to figure out where this gas is coming from."

"Go," Stella returned. "And Ritha, I love you."

Ritha paused in mid-step and looked back at her sister, her heart melting at hearing those three little words from Stella after so many years of silence. Her expression softened, her lips curling up in a huge grin. "I love you too. And I love you, Nyota!"

"We've established that we all love each other," Nyota commented. "Can we possibly get going to Sickbay now?"

The theatrics out of the way, Ritha took off again, racing past people who were clogging the hallway with stretchers inbound for Sickbay. More people were leaning against walls or crumpled on the floor gripped by spasms, but the best way she could help them was by getting to Engineering and flushing the oxygen recyclers. The sooner they found out how the gas was being pumped into their environmental systems the more people would be spared from its effects.

Engineering was in much the same state of chaos as the rest of the ship. Starfleet officers were trained extensively for these kinds of situations, but having to face one in real life was a test to every officer. Some people were checking systems and running diagnostics. Others were panicking. That was just the way it worked when there were so many people thrown into the mix.

"Give me diagnostic scans of our environmental systems, and I want every oxygen filter manually checked for foreign substances!" she shouted over the din. There were no loud bangs that could be mistaken for thunder, nothing to make her voice waver or doubt the commands she was issuing.

"Ensign Monroe," Chekov began via the intercom in Engineering, "sensors indicate the substance is tetrahydine. It is native to Istabul Major and remains inert until exposed to heat."

"We're trying to track it down now, Ensign Chekov. I'll report back when we've located the source of the contaminate." That tetrahydine was inert until exposed to heat didn't really give her much to go on. Everything in the environmental systems was exposed to heat just from the sheer amount of power required to run it.

Within minutes, diagnostic scans on the environmental system reported the presence of the gas, with elevated amounts in the oxygen ducts. Obviously. An air born gas had to be cycled through oxygen ducts and filters for it to affect the entire ship. But that gave her no clues on where the gas was originating from so it could be cleaned up. It was no good just flushing the systems if there was a hidden reservoir of gas waiting around to poison the air again.

***

"The background check you requested on all those assigned to the research and development team contracted by Emperor Tien is complete, Jim. My findings correlate with the information given to us by President Tobra. The program was shut down eleven years prior to Istabul Major joining the Federation. However, two of the lead scientists are on record as having attended anti-Federation rallies."

"Participating in a rally doesn't automatically mean you make the leap to full-fledged terrorist, but it's worth looking into. Bones, how are you coming?"

A violent sneeze erupted from Bones, whose head was barely visible over a large stack of data pads he had spent the past several hours looking through. Were his eyeballs starting to cross? He wouldn't be surprised. They'd been closeted away inside a dusty room with data pads and actual papers that were covered in an equal amount of dust as everything else in the room.

"Well, Jim, where to start? I know more about empirical government than I ever wanted to, can recite the Istabulian code of ethics and moral conduct by heart, and even read a fascinating report on criminology. As far as anything useful? Emperor Tien resigned from government life after the majority vote to join the Federation and retired to some estate in the southern hemisphere. Now, anyone want to take a gander as to why an emperor willingly gives up that much power instead of using his son as a puppet ruler?"

"It is not beyond the realm of logic for a man who spent most of his life in a leadership position to crave some leisure time upon retirement. Being a leader comes with certain responsibilities and pressures. A lifetime of said pressures can make abdicating from one's throne easier."

"We'll put him on the list of suspects anyway just to be thorough. Who are the scientists who participated in the rally?"

"Doctors Kolra Ko Kerva and Jiet Je Jong. Both reside in Bulta and are active professors in the college of sciences at the university."

"Jong. Isn't that the tradition-kissing assistant's first name?" Bones asked.

"Surname," Spock corrected. "In Istabulian society, the surname always appears first, followed by the name of the maternal line, and concluding with a personal name. Therefore, Jong Je Jin is the son of Jong, belonging to the matrilineal family of Je, and concluding with the personal name of Jin."

"Yeah, I got it without the need for an example."

Shuddering, Bones used a handkerchief to brush the dust off the next data pad in the stack waiting for him. There hadn't been time since their meeting with Tobra to talk to Ritha, but he'd finally come to the conclusion that he should apologize, even if he didn't think he was in the wrong. He might not trust women, but the idea of actually hurting a woman went against his southern gentleman roots. Women were to be treated with respect, gentility, and even chivalry. She was still the one in the wrong, though. After all, Ritha was the one who had made assumptions and hadn't given him the time to explain his statement.

His head jerked up so he could see over the stack of data pads when Jim's handheld activated. Chekov's voice emanated from the device.

"Ensign Chekov to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here," Jim said once he'd made a two-way connection.

"A chemical native to Istabul Major has been introduced to ship's environmental system. Countless crew members suffering from toxic gas. Please, return to ship immediately."

"Goddamnit!" Bones shouted, instantly on his feet.

Even Spock's face registered surprise. He asked, "Have you enacted containment protocols by ordering a general use of oxygen masks and shutting down the environmental systems to stop the spread of the gas?"

"Da! We await further instruction from the captain."

"Understood, Chekov. We'll be back in about forty minutes, so hang in there, okay? Kirk out."

Bones didn't wait for Jim or Spock when he tore out of the old room at Federation headquarters, because the only thing he was capable of seeing was a sickbay filled to the brim with poisoned crew members and Stella trying to control the organized chaos. She was a competent doctor to be sure, but he had no idea if she was a competent leader.

Tension crackled the interior of the hover-cover as its driver fought through Bulta's congested traffic to get them back to the dry dock outside the city. He was too busy coming up with a treatment plan and hazarding a guess as to whether the gas was a different version of the poison found in Bulta's water sanitation plants. By the time they arrived, most of the crew had abandoned the ship in favor of not succumbing to the gas. Cranes and scaffolding along the ship's exterior that were previously being used to make repairs to the hull were empty, but what immediately got his attention was the triage Westin had set up on the grounds outside the ship. Chaos it was. People were running everywhere. Rows of stretchers and cots were being set up for the afflicted, who were in turn being tended to by his efficient nursing staff headed by Christine Chapel.

He flew out of the hover-car as soon as the doors were open to join Stella in the triage. "Report!"

"So far we have one hundred three crew members that have collapsed from the poison," Stella shouted to be heard. "Another fifty-seven are suffering from extreme nausea, vomiting, and headaches. Twenty-nine have gone into convulsions."

"How are you treating them?"

"Blood filters to get the poison out of their systems, respirators for those whose lungs have been affected, Lorcet and Phenegren for the headaches and nausea, and muscle relaxants for the spasms. There aren't enough blood dialysis machines to go around!"

"Put those in danger of going code black on the dialysis machines. Everyone else gets double the dose of blood filter. Nurse Chapel, find healthy crew members with intermediate field first aide training and draft them to your ranks."

"Yes, Doctor," Christine said while handing Bones his medical kit and tricorder.

"Is Ensign Monroe among the afflicted?" he asked of Stella, sounding cool and collected under the pressure.

"She's still on the Enterprise. When Chekov ordered the general evacuation, she and a team of engineers and science officers stayed behind to figure out where the poison is coming from. Chekov is with them."

A string of expletives issued from him at the news, but there was little he could do about it. He couldn't abandon his post to go gallivanting aboard a death trap to drag her out of there, especially considering in the middle of danger was where she needed to be right now. The only thing he could do was hope she made it out of there alive. If she died before he got the chance to explain himself, he'd regret it for years.

Anyone who said a doctor didn't have a physical job needed to be slugged. Over the next several hours, Bones shifted and lifted patients until his back wanted to break under the strain, delivered so many hypospray injections his thumb got sore and then went numb altogether, and that wasn't even accounting for the strain on his feet. So many faces looked up at him in misery, silently begging for him to do something to relieve their symptoms, there was no way he would remember them all.

Blood filter, thirty-five ccs. Lorcet and Phenegren cocktail, combined seventy-five ccs. Muscle relaxants, ten ccs. _The poison has progressed too far, make him comfortable,_ eighteen times. It was all imprinted on his mind. The initial flurry of activity left them with thirty-one dead crew members, including those who had died before his arrival. Thirty-one people were beyond his ability to save, beyond the wonders of modern medicine, but all he could do was block it out and distance himself from the horror that was biological warfare. These people had lived through Nero's attack. They'd survived all the clusterfuck missions the Enterprise had been on in the following year, and had just come through defeating three Klingon war birds only to be killed by biological-fucking-warfare. It made him sick.

But still he worked, ticking off each patient who was logged into the triage on his mental tally of those they had managed to save. Each one was a miracle in and of itself. If it was the twenty-first century, half of them would be dead. If it was the fifteenth century, ninety-seven percent would be dead. Of course people in the fifteenth century would have prescribed hanging a dead rat around their necks to ward off the evil eye.

Bones didn't get a chance to take stock of things until well past dusk, at which point, he paused in his work only to have Nurse Chapel shove a bottle of water and can of soup into his hands. The exterior lights were starting to collect clouds of insects in front of them. Not the most sanitary of conditions, but like the old saying went, beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Hydrate and get some nutrition in your stomach," she said matter-of-factly.

"Thanks, Christine. How is everyone holding up?" He popped the cap off the water and chugged most of the contents in a single gulp.

"Better than any other medical crew in Starfleet. There's been no update from the ship for an hour, but they're having a hard time pinning down exactly where the poison was deposited. The air is still registering as contaminated even with the shuttle bay doors wide open."

"The joys of having an air-tight ship where you can't throw open any windows to air the place out. Any word on the health of Chekov's team?"

"They have oxygen masks, so the poison isn't getting into their systems. However, some are reporting topical irritations and inflammation to their derma from overexposure."

"Well that's just great. Our damn ship has turned into a giant, hazardous tin can filled with Agent Orange, and we sent people in there without a general order to wear HazMat? Get on the horn with everyone inside and tell them the CMO said to drop what they're doing and put on HazMat gear. And if you see Jim, tell him I need to talk to him."

"I'll pass along the message, Doctor. Last I saw him, he was arguing with some native guy dressed in pink trousers."

"That would be the assistant to President Tobra. I need a report on Scotty. Where did you evacuate all the patients previously in Sickbay?"

"We evacuated them over by Building Three. Crew members erected a clean tent to cut down on air born germs. Scotty's okay. We didn't have time deal with him throwing a tantrum about getting to engineering, so we just sedated him ."

"I think I'll just go and check on him to make sure he isn't giving anyone a hard time."

Bones finished the can of soup in record time, pitched it in a waste container, and took off across the triage grounds. Scotty was a stubborn bastard. He wouldn't be surprised if the nurse assigned to keep watch over patients in the tent had been forced to sedate him just to keep his ass in a cot. If the Enterprise was in danger, sedatives were the only thing that would stop him. Considering the Scotsman had held an unofficial wedding ceremony between himself and the Enterprise, he felt justified in his assumptions.

Pushing back the tent flap, he stepped inside. There were only a handful of cots inside, but his eyes immediately went to the one empty cot at the back of the tent. He just knew that was supposed to be Scotty's cot. A check of the data pad at the foot of the bed containing all his records proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Scotty, Goddamnit, I'm going to nail your butt to the bed!"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ritha shoved her fingers through her hair while squeezing tired eyes closed as though that would make the glare of staring at an illuminated computer terminal fade. It didn't. In fact, she made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and even went so far as smacking her hand on the hard surface, which only resulted in making her palm sting. She had no idea what they were overlooking! The air filters had been a bust. They'd even torn apart the environmental system's hub trying to find a container of liquefied chemical with no luck.

To be fair, Spock, who had joined them about an hour after they'd started the process, wasn't having any luck either, but then he wasn't trained as an engineer the way she was. She should have had the problem figured out by now so everyone could return to the ship and get a decent night's sleep in their own beds. Unfortunately, either her inexperience or a stereotypical blonde moment meant it was taking ten times longer than it probably should have. She scrolled down a page in the manual she was looking over, pausing to scratch at a patch of irritated skin, something they were all starting to develop after spending so much time exposed to the gas. Much longer and they would all turn into toads and start developing body warts.

"Ensign Monroe, we have yet to check the gravity inducer cam shafts. According to this engineering blueprint, the cam shafts sit within two feet of the main oxygen recycler sub-housing," Spock commented from a nearby stool.

Before she could respond, Chekov piped in, "We received word from Doctor McCoy to outfit ourselves with HazMat suits."

"Just a second, Chekov," she responded before rolling her chair back and leaning over Spock's shoulder to look at the blueprints.

"Ensign Monroe, I feel I must remind you of personal space. While your presence in this situation is not unwarranted, I would prefer a certain distance between our bodies."

Rolling her eyes, she took a step back and to the side. He never complained when Jim or Bones crowded him, but then they were part of some freaky platonic love triangle she wanted to know absolutely nothing about. "It can't be in the cam shafts. I mean, we can check, but that's three feet of solid metal. Someone would have noticed a person in here making that much racket."

She was just about to throw her hands up and exclaim that she was officially tendering her resignation to Starfleet on account of being the stupidest engineer in the entire fleet when a nearby door swished open. Jim had come and gone several times from Engineering over the hours, so she didn't think much of it until righting her position to greet him. Scotty, leaning heavily against the door frame and a hand clutching his head, was there instead.

"Montgomery Scott, what are you doing out of your bed?" she shouted. Keenser and a couple of other engineers got there before she could to help him. "Bones and Stella are going to murder you when they discover you're missing."

"Can't leave my baby to rot and flounder without me, Lass. Where do we stand?"

"You don't stand anywhere. Your butt has thirty seconds to get in that chair before I take a paddle to it. Just because you're starting to feel better doesn't mean you should be walking around."

"I concur with the ensign." Spock retrieved his handheld and adjusted the frequency before continuing, "Doctor McCoy, do not assemble search parties to retrieve Lieutenant Commander Scott. He just arrived in Engineering."

Bones' voice emanated from the device. "You tell that stubborn-as-a-mule Scotsman I'm getting into HazMat to drag his ass back off that ship."

"All of you bloody stop frettin'! I'm not going to be kicking the bucket any time soon. Chekov, since the rest of them are delighting in ignoring me, fill me in on what you've checked already."

Ritha kicked a stool away from Scotty's console so he would have room to sit down while Chekov rattled off a list in his heavy Russian accent. That was one guy who would take getting used to in order to fully understand what he was saying when he started rattling things off. Scotty's accent was much less thick, but even his words could become garbled when he really got going. At any rate, she was glad the focus was off her for the time being, giving her a much-needed moment to turn away from the group and allow the bone-deep weariness to show through on her face. Would it make her very childish if she stomped her foot and whined for her daddy? He would know what to do to make everything better again.

The weariness fled from her face to be replaced by one of earnestness and interest when Scotty cleared his throat. Not a trace of fatigue or despondency was left by the time she turned back around to face the others.

There wasn't a single ounce of condescension in Scotty's tone when he finally announced, "The first place you shoulda looked is the environmental system's onboard injection manifold. Pop the cover off that baby in a matter of minutes if you know how to do it right, and it's got direct access to the oxygen ducts via the sub-grid relay lines."

"God, I'm so stupid!" Her hand whacked against her forehead, which only had her making a slight whining sound. Considering she hadn't had any sleep in going on forty-eight hours, she felt she was entitled to a little whining. "Why didn't I think about that in the first place? I ruled it out as not having direct access to the oxygen ducts."

"I'm the only one who's allowed to whine here, Lass. You're a brilliant engineer, but you don't have the experience I do. Get some more experience under your belt, and you'll be the chief engineering officer of your own ship."

Only she wasn't sure she wanted to be the chief engineering officer on any other ship. That wasn't to say she had her eye on Scotty's job. She didn't, but the idea of leaving all the friends she'd made behind and starting over with that much responsibility hanging over her head was enough to make her pulse race and beads of sweat form on her brow. The idea of accepting a promotion in which she might be required to take on more leadership duties was stressful enough. A junior lieutenant hardly had any greater leadership responsibility than an ensign, so if it saved her from having a desk job back on Earth, she would just have to get used to the idea and take baby steps.

Ritha leaned up against a nearby console while Scotty put an engineer to the task of removing the cover. The letter from Starfleet had arrived in her inbox when she'd been serving on the USS Obama, named so to honor the growing diversity of the United States since he was the first president with any kind of African American heritage. Apparently things like that had been a big deal back in the twenty-first century. She'd been informed in no uncertain terms that if she didn't accept a promotion within the next year she would be brought up for review. People who went in for reviews like that often wound up at desk jobs on Earth. Starfleet liked their officers to work up the ranks. Something about showing motivation to constantly strive for achievements. Maybe it was unfair, but weren't private corporations the same way?

Her attention returned to those around her when Engineer Rayburn declared he had the injection manifold cover off and could see a foreign object inside. The man's hands were trembling just a little when he pulled a shallow, circular dish no bigger around than the bottom of a soda can from inside the manifold. Steam swayed lazily up from what remained of the dish's contents, a rather noxious-looking yellow liquid, from sitting directly on the heat produced by the manifold.

Chekov ran forward with his tricorder to take the necessary readings before announcing, "Positive identification as tetrahydine."

Hours of tension fled from her shoulders at the same moment and left her in what she expected to be a permanent slouch. Now that the source material was gone, they could have the air cleaned up in a matter of a couple of hours, which meant everyone could go about their normal business.

"Ritha, I'm gonna be a good little Scotsman and return to the triage before Bones gets the bright idea of gluin' my arse to a mattress. Start the flush cycle and program the computer to perform a full purge then get your butt out of here."

"But-"

"Don't 'but' me, Girl. Get right back on that horse and ride it for all it's worth. You're the acting chief engineer officer. This is your mess to clean up. I'm on vacation." Scotty followed it up with one of his good-natured smiles, so she knew he wasn't being condescending toward her, was merely trying to motivate her and rebuild her confidence.

"I will escort the lieutenant commander back to his bed and inform Captain Kirk of our success," announced Spock.

"Have you spoken to Nyo--err--Lieutenant Uhura? Is she okay?"

Something remotely in the region of a softening of his expression took place before he said, "We spoke not long ago, and yes, she has no lasting effects from inhaling the poisonous gas. I will inform her you asked after her welfare."

"Thanks."

She was left alone with Chekov, who insisted on staying behind until the job was complete, and a couple of other engineers, but it didn't take long to input the commands that began flushing the system. After setting a programmed purge that would suck all the oxygen out of the ship and replace it with fresh, clean air, she accompanied the others off the Enterprise.

The first thing she did was remove the oxygen mask and drag in a deep breath of fresh air. Oxygen masks were great, but there was nothing better than non-recycled air and the feeling of a slight breeze against skin. The breeze also reminded her how inflamed and itchy her skin was, but not even that could take away from the euphoria of no longer being confined to the engineering deck. There was something claustrophobic about knowing she was onboard a ship filled with contaminated air and couldn't leave Engineering.

The second thing she was intending to do was find some water and some food to quiet her complaining stomach. Her intentions didn't pan out. Bones was suddenly jogging in her direction with his medical kit slung over his shoulder and his tricorder out. There wasn't even time to protest before he attacked her with the sensor to start reading her vitals. Why in the name of all the chocolate in the world did she have the sudden urge to latch onto him like a koala as if merely being pressed up against him would make some of the stress disappear?

"I'm giving you an antihistamine and blood filter to be on the safe side. Once you've had a moment to cool off, see Nurse Chapel. She'll give you a cream to help the irritation to your skin," he said.

"I'm okay, Bones. The nausea and headache went away a few hours ago."

"Good to hear, but you're still getting the injection and the anti-inflammation cream." There was no arguing with him when he would just hyposhark her. The injection was far gentler than she'd seen him give in the past and didn't even sting.

"Bones, I'm sorry," she whispered, weariness leaving her feeling more vulnerable than usual. "I'm sorry for how we left it this morning, and I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, and I'm sorry if you felt pressured."

He imitated Spock again when an eyebrow arched as though he couldn't believe she was apologizing. "Yeah, I'm sorry too."

"Can I have a hug? I'm not really used to asking for hugs. Generally, I just take them, but rumor has it you despise public displays of affection."

Watching the emotion play across his face was a refreshing change from Spock, who didn't make facial expression, leastwise not ones she could read, and Captain Kirk, who only showed the world what he wanted them to see. The shock on Bones' expression was clear, precise, and spoke volumes. "Rumor has it I also have a forked tongue and a tail sprouting out of my backside, but that doesn't make it true."

A shuddering breath escaped when Bones, sheltered from the immediate view of most of the crew members by the shuttle bay doors from whence she'd exited, pulled her up against his chest and tucked his arms around her. She was even more surprised when his cheek rested on the crown of her head. Tomorrow they might be bickering again. Tomorrow, the reality of the situation would hit them like a ton of bricks and prevent moments like these, so for now, she would take all she could get.

"I just want you to know I've never expected or wanted the sun, the moon, and the stars from you. Yeah, I like you and think we have chemistry, but it doesn't have to go beyond the having fun stage."

"Ritha, I don't-"

She interrupted him. "Don't. Bones, I'm not asking anything more from you than you're willing to give. It's not like I'm some love-struck bint mooning over you and offering to accept any scraps you're willing to give me, because I'm not. This is on my terms as much as it's on yours. I just thought we could have fun. Sex can be just for fun. It doesn't have to have all those pesky emotional entanglements associated with it."

"Aren't I the one who's supposed to be talking you into no-strings-attached sex? You would be Jim's fantasy come true."

Stopping herself from immediately jumping to the conclusion he was trying to deflect the conversation was a challenge. "Except I don't want to be in Jim's bed. He's a cool guy, but his personality does nothing to turn me on."

"And mine does?" he asked incredulously. "You're a glutton for punishment or have some serious issues if you go for tall, dark, and snarky."

"I happen to like tall, dark, and snarky. You got a problem with that, Babe?"

"I'm a doctor, not a babe."

"You're a babe who happens to be a doctor." She shifted her head out from under his cheek to smile up at him.

"You're obviously sleep-deprived. Let's get you something to eat and a warm place to bed down, because I doubt either of us is in any condition to go for a romp between the sheets right now, so it's a moot discussion."

Sleep sounded good. The purge would be done in only a couple of hours, but sleeping outside the ship for a few hours certainly wouldn't hurt her. Ritha extricated herself from the hug, a little surprised when Bones kept his arm around her waist to guide her to Building Three where he informed her Jong Je Jin had opened up the cafeteria to serve sandwiches and coffee to the tired and crew.

***

"Captain, what are you still doing up? I thought Commander Spock and Bones wrestled you off to bed a while ago." Stella asked, suddenly behind him.

Jim, his face buried in a cup of coffee inside the dry dock cafeteria, almost jumped out of his chair at Stella's sudden voice. Hot coffee splashed over the rim of his mug where it scalded his hand. Breath hissed through his teeth. It was a sad day in a captain's life when he was so wound up and had so much going on he became as skittish as a virgin. And yeah, he'd deflowered a few those in his life even if virgins were few and far between. At least he took the time to make sure said virgin had a great first experience.

"Let me take a look at that and make sure you haven't scalded yourself."

The good doctor didn't give him an opportunity to consent; she just grabbed his hand and inspected the area with a gentle touch, allowing him the opportunity to look up at her. Some people might have considered her a little on the plain side when she wasn't wearing make up, but there was something charming about the way her nose had a slight up-turn at the end. Her blue eyes were some of the clearest he'd seen. In short, he was fascinated enough with Stella to want to take her to bed, but that was all he would ever be able to give her.

Clearing his throat, he watched her spread cream over the scalded flesh and tape a bandage over it. "Well, what's the prognosis, Doc? Am I going to live?"

"I'm pretty sure you'll come through without any lasting damage. Ensign Chekov says the purge will be complete soon, so we're preparing to move everyone back inside."

"Have a seat and have some coffee while you're waiting. I can't imagine you've had much opportunity to sit down since this all started." He nudged a seat away from the table with his foot.

Stella didn't speak again until she'd poured herself a cup of coffee from one of the large percolators and settled herself in the chair. "Are the rumors true?"

"The rumors that I've insured my family jewels for upwards of eighty million credits? A gross exaggeration." He leaned closer to her. "I only insured them for ten million."

Laughter bubbled out of her. "Not that rumor! I mean the one where we're being attacked by terrorists and their pet androids for helping the Istabulians. No one bothers to give me all the facts."

"Yeah, that one's true. These pricks are more aggressive than I thought to actually attack the Enterprise. I mean, the smart thing to do when trained Federation officers show up to hunt you down is to go into hiding. Why attack the ship? It's guaranteed to piss off the people who take on the case."

"I don't know, but they're sure not adept at picking poisonous substances. Tetrahydine? Sure, it's effective if you breathe it in long enough, but there are poisons out there that would have devastated the crew in a matter of minutes. If they'd used Bultovian daroweed the way they used tetrahydine, only ten or twenty percent of the crew would have made it off the ship."

"So maybe they're just not good at poisoning people. That's actually a bit of a relief," he stared down into his coffee, his brow knitting together.

"It's the same with the poison they introduced to the water sanitation plants in Bulta. Sure, the poison is nasty business, but the number of people who will actually die from it is relatively small, only those who are aged, young, or their immune systems are already compromised."

"Are you suggesting they're picking poisons that have a low mortality rate on purpose? It's just as likely they aren't researching their poisons properly. Only that's not likely is it? These people are smart enough to develop advanced androids but not smart enough to research the poison they're using?"

"If it's true, it means they're not trying to commit mass genocide, which is generally at the top of a terrorist's list of priorities. I'm no expert by any means, but if this line of thinking is true, their organization would be more of a fringe group trying to get the attention of mainstream society for whatever reason."

"That's something think about. So are you going to have dinner with me when this is all over with?" Jim flashed his most charming smile.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Back to the action. This chapter went without my medical beta reader, so if there are any mistakes you pick up on, let me know. To the best of my knowledge, having never set foot inside an ER and relying on what research I could do, what I have written seems plausible.

* * *

Chapter 10

Jim pressed himself deeper into a niche, his breathing shallow to avoid making sound that might attract attention. The black shirt he'd opted for--it would stand out far less than his uniform shirt--blended in well with the shadows. Nearby, Cupcake was making use of a digital code breaker on the door he stood in front of, a door that would take them into the apartment of Jiet Je Jong. Turns out the man was Jong Je's father. What fitting irony it would be if the good professor was part of Sovereign Istabul. There really weren't any clues to make them jump to that conclusion just yet, but given the lack of real evidence for the case, they had to start somewhere.

A plume of steam as he exhaled into the chilly night air made him wish he didn't need oxygen, but the locking mechanism on the door finally clicked. A green bar appeared on the small terminal, and Cupcake--yes, he actually did know the man's real name to be Paul--allowed the door to swish open to grant them access. They had it on good authority Jiet Je always stayed late at the university to engage in whatever research floated his boat, so Jim stepped in front of Cupcake to be the first to enter the apartment.

The interior was dark but for a small light being emitted by an aquarium filled with glowing neon fish. Pots containing plants just beginning to wilt made Jim wonder if the man had been home at all lately. Given the fact that he was the captain of the Enterprise where Murphy's Law was not only a reality but an every day occurrence, he automatically jumped to the conclusion that Jiet had been kidnapped by Sovereign Istabul and was being held against his will to make androids for them. He was sure Spock would have something to say about jumping to conclusions without any real evidence to back it up.

Cupcake allowed the door to swish shut behind them once he and Spock had entered, at which point their chief security officer made use of a fingerprint finder to start collecting data. Any fingerprints found that didn't match Jiet Je would have to be included on their list of suspects.

"Spock," Jim began in a whisper, "check the computer console. I'll search the rest of the apartment. Cupcake, keep an ear out for incoming people."

"Acknowledged, Captain."

Leaving the two men in the main living space, Jim worked his way back through a guest bedroom, a lavatory, a home office, and to the bedroom. People with something to hide generally hid it in their personal space where others weren't likely to go snooping around. Hell, he didn't entirely know what he was expecting to find. It wasn't as though the man would keep an android tucked in his bed.

Thankfully, the revolving closet Jim pulled through didn't have a single article of pink clothing, proving a certain color preference couldn't be passed from father to son. Only one interesting thing was in the wall of drawers, and that was an Istabulian nudie magazine Jim thumbed through with a smile on his face. Some things were apparently universal. And he'd been right about great asses being the norm for Istabulian women. He forced himself to put the magazine back where he'd found it and was just lifting the mattress off the bed when the sound of breaking glass from the main living space got an immediate reaction out of Spock and Cupcake. The two men broke silence and shouted that they were under attack.

Yanking his phaser from the holster, he dashed through the apartment to find his comrades under pressure against five men. The men were dressed in black clothing. Patches sewn onto the shoulders of their jackets depicted a crown surrounding a planet. He'd probably win money if he bet that was the symbol of Sovereign Istabul. Could anyone blame him for the shock registering on his face when his phaser blast dropped one of the men coming up behind Spock? Finally! They were finally getting to meet some real members of the anti-Federation rebellion.

"Don't kill them unless you absolutely have to," Jim shouted over the ruckus. "We need to question them."

"Yes, Captain. I'm aware of standard protocol," returned Spock.

Jim ducked beneath an arm that swung at his head and delivered a fist to his opponent's gut that propelled the man backwards into a bookshelf with glass doors. Shards scattered across the carpet. Spock relied on finesse and technique to get through a physical battle. Cupcake's movements were efficient, precise, and relied on his larger frame. But Jim? He was a pure brawler, loved nothing more than getting down and dirty or being up in his opponent's face, so he leaped over a body Cupcake threw across the room to get back in front of the man he'd shoved into the bookcase.

One of his hands fisted in the man's jacket, his other free to deliver a hard slug against his opponent's face. Only Mister Terrorist didn't play by the standard rules. Go figure. Jim twisted to the side in time to avoid the knife suddenly ramming toward his gut. He was in the process throwing his elbow in the direction of an exposed neck when the man lunged to the side. Momentum carried Jim's elbow into the solid wood, leaving his entire arm smarting and threatening to go numb.

Terrorists, opportunists that they were, never failed to make use of any opportunity. The same held true when the Sovereign Istabul twat rammed his shoulder into Jim's stomach with enough forced to hurl him backward where he landed on a glass table. More glass shattered under his weight and dropped him through the metal frame onto the floor. No amount of wiggling got him free of the temporary cage in time to avoid to the knife coming down at him. All he could do was throw his arm up to protect his face, leaving his stomach unprotected.

Pain exploded in his ribcage when the blade slid through flesh like hot butter. A hiss was all he would allow himself. Jim wrapped his legs around Mister Terrorists' legs and yanked hard enough to bring the twat down. The man landed face-first on the edge of the metal stand with a satisfying crunch of bone and a soft yelp.

The move afforded him enough time to work himself free of his prison and an extra couple of seconds to pull the knife from his body. He covered the wound with a hand, grabbed the back of his opponent's jacket, and flipped him over. A large chunk of glass was imbedded in Mister Terrorist's eye. Neither was he twitching. Son of a…

His mental curse came to an abrupt end when a second terrorist slammed into him from behind, threatening to send him falling back into the table's metal frame. Jim dug in his heels and whipped around to deliver a kick to the man's stomach. A quick glance to his comrades assured him Spock and Cupcake were mopping up the other invaders, so he felt no qualms in dragging out his phaser and taking a pot shot at the idiot's knee. Whatever it took to keep the man from running or dying. So what if the smirk on his face was more than a little satisfied at the singed flesh? They'd stabbed him!

Glass crunched under the soles of his boots as he made the few steps over to where Mister Terrorist was clutching his knee. Just for the sheer principle of the matter, Jim slugged him in the face, but something wasn't right. Dude wasn't resisting or trying to fight back. That was when Jim noticed the white froth dribbling from the corner of the man's mouth. He released a string of curses that would have made a dock worker blush.

"They have poison tablets." Jim's tone was resigned in its matter-of-factness. "Why doesn't that surprise me in the slightest?"

"Yeah, we figured that out. They're dead, Captain. They're all dead." Cupcake said.

"Murphy's-flipping-Law," he muttered under his breath.

"Murphy's Law?" inquired Cupcake.

Spock quickly jumped in to explain since explaining things seemed to be what he loved doing best. "Murphy's Law is a theory that postulates the continuous occurrence of the worst case scenario. In this instance, Captain Kirk believes the Enterprise is--how would humans phrase it?--the poster child of Murphy's Law in that the worst case scenario occurs with frightening consistency."

"We are Murphy's Law. Check the bodies to see if they're carrying any kind of identification. Tag the fingerprints in our database. Maybe we can track down their personal information and establish some kind of people-train directly to the leaders of the rebellion."

Naturally, sirens could finally be heard in the distance. Neighbors had no doubt called the authorities when they'd heard the ruckus going on, but Jim was more concerned about the file showing on the computer console Spock was supposed to have been hacking. Something about the prototype androids developed by the program showing fear of death. He couldn't be sure, because his head was swimming from the throbbing pain in his side and the hot rush of blood dribbling over heated flesh.

"Captain Kirk!" Cupcake shouted, only his shouting sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel.

The stab wound hadn't felt that serious. Sure, the knife had been long enough to reach some vital organs, but he didn't think it had gone that deep. His vision tilted dangerously when he lifted his hand up in front of his face to look at the blood covering it. It was mixed with black.

"Jim."

Spock's voice calling his name was the last thing he heard as he sagged to the ground.

***

Bones' handheld slipped from his hand and clattered on the floor of Sickbay. It was the one call he'd been terrified of receiving even though he knew the chances of him receiving it at some point in their five year mission were high. He just hadn't expected it to be today, two whole days after dealing with a poisoned gas on his ship.

"Doctor McCoy?" Christine asked.

"Get me a crash cart, a gurney, and synthetic blood. Stat," he said in a smoke and whiskey voice that fought off panic and emotion. "Page Stella. We're going Code Blue."

He thanked whatever hoodoo spell had made Nurse Chapel so level-headed, because she didn't bombard him with questions.

"You heard him," she said in that authoritative tone of hers before tearing across Sickbay to gather a nursing team.

Grabbing up a medical kit, Bones raced out of Sickbay like Nascar had come to town. His heart thundered faster than his feet during the time it took--it felt like forever and a day--to get to the shuttle bay doors where Spock and Cupcake would be bringing in an injured captain. What terrified him more than Spock giving him the news was the sound of Jim's labored breathing in the background and the fact that Jim hadn't been reassuring the two men he could get up and run a marathon. A Jim who whined meant the injury wasn't life-threatening. A silent Jim meant there was a real chance he would die.

The truth of the matter was that Jim had saved his life, not Starfleet. Months of depression after his divorce had led to months of learning how best to sop up the most amount of alcohol humanly possible. Counting the number of times he'd somehow survived driving home drunk or sleeping in a dirty alley if the bartenders were caring enough to disable the ignition on his hover-car was impossible. As soon as he'd sat down next to Jim on the shuttle for new recruits, his life had changed. Who would take care of Jim after one of his bar brawls if he was passed out drunk? How could he have had access to enough booze to drink away the post-divorce anger when Jim had followed him around yammering about sex and women while steering him away from bars?

People at the academy had often asked him how he put up with rooming with Jim. Well, he didn't want to know how he would have put up with rooming with anyone else. Jim Kirk had a capacity to inspire loyalty that defied reason. Why? Because the man's zest for life was infectious. Because he knew Jim would risk his life without a second thought for someone he either deemed worthy or felt responsible for. Yes, Jim had saved his life, but he'd hoped to never have the chance to return the favor.

Bones was busy pacing back and forth in front of the shuttle bay doors with Nurse Chapel, Stella, and their team standing nearby when the hover-car came to a stop on the tarmac. Cupcake was the first one to emerge. When Spock, his face seemingly contorted with emotion, climbed out with Jim in his arms, the hobgoblin didn't immediately start running in the ship's direction. He lowered the captain to the ground to perform CPR, an action that made Bones' heart leap up into his throat.

And he'd been complaining about the trip from Sickbay to the shuttle bay taking forever and a day. The thirty yards separating him from Jim felt like an insurmountable gulf, but he eventually got there, eventually was able to go down on his knees as Spock leaned forward to blow a breath of oxygen into Jim's lungs. Had a Vulcan face ever showed so much desperation as Spock's was in that moment? Perhaps that was what terrified Bones the most.

"He coded when we were en route from the apartment," Spock said while fisting his hands against Jim's sternum to deliver the required pumps of his fists.

"Jim, you son of a bitch, you'd better not die on us, do you hear me?" Bones shouted. "Chapel, fifty ccs of adrenaline. Westin, have those paddles charged to three hundred and ready!"

The vial of adrenaline was delivered to his open hand already loaded into a hypospray, so Bones popped Jim in the neck. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Heightened senses made him imagine he could hear every thud of Spock's hands against Jim's sternum. Thud…Pause…Thud…Pause…Thud…Pause…Breath…Pause…Thud. He kept expecting Jim to suddenly sit up and crack a joke about finally knowing what half-Vulcan lips tasted like, but the captain never did. Technically, the captain was dead. The thought turned his blood to pure adrenaline.

"The tricorder finds no foreign bodies or poisons in his system, Doctor," Stella said. "He has as a collapsed lung from blood pooling in his chest cavity and lacerations to his liver, kidneys, and diaphragm."

"Chapel, get your ass in here and intubate."

He could hear himself shouting but couldn't feel the resonance in his throat as he leaped over Jim's body to get to the wound on his other side. Blood soaking the captain's shirt and trousers and pooling beneath him on the tarmac was so dark as to appear black. Any doctor fresh out of med school wouldn't need a scan to tell them Jim's liver had been punctured.

"Paddles are charged!" This from Westin, who took a pair of scissors to Jim's shirt to expose his chest and slapped protective gel pads over the captain's skin to avoid burns from the electric charge.

"Goddamnit, get out of the way, Spock!"

Never once had he allowed himself to think he would be trying to resuscitate Jim Kirk. As soon as Spock slung himself out of the way, Bones applied the paddles, shouted for everyone to get clear, and delivered a jolt in an attempt to restart the man's heart. The portable monitor blipped with the resulting sinus rhythm only to blare a flat line when Jim's heart failed to pick up the rhythm on its own.

"Charging to four hundred," Stella said.

Bones shook Jim's shoulders gently and said, "You'd better come back, you stubborn-as-a-mule son of a bitch. I didn't put up with you for three years at the academy to have you die on me now."

That said, he applied the paddles again to deliver another jolt. Again, the monitor blipped a rhythm. All he could do was hold his breath for a moment to see if Jim's heart would respond. Blip blip…Pause…Blip blip…Pause…Blip blip… Breath rushed out of his lungs when the captain's heart maintained the rhythm. It was erratic, but at least his heart was beating on its own.

"Chapel, break open a chest tube kit. Spock, help me get him on the gurney so we can take him to Sickbay. Cupcake, clear a path."

When Spock had hold of Jim under his shoulders, Bones took hold of his ankles so they could both lift him from the ground. Inserting a chest tube in the middle of a dry dock with hundreds of Starfleet crew and Istabulians gathering around wasn't his idea of a sterile environment, but waiting would mean precious minutes depriving Jim of an adequate oxygen level which could result in brain damage. Chapel had the chest tube waiting for him. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and used a laser scalpel to open an incision several inches down from Jim's armpit. Once the tube was in place, blood surged through it to splatter on the ground.

Only then did he allow their group to get underway, a group that gained members during the mad dash as though the entire crew was forming a shield around Jim to protect him from prying eyes. Chekov, Sulu, and Cupcake appointed themselves lead bulls to shove people out of the way so a path could be made clear. Uhura was there with her hand on Spock's shoulder as though the hobgoblin could take some small comfort from her natural calmness. Ritha was running as close to him as she could without getting in the way. Even Scotty, who had just been released from Sickbay yesterday, was doing his best to keep up despite not being back to full strength yet.

Jim didn't dare die, not when so many people were loyal to him. That did nothing to make him feel better, though, when the gurney-train finally broke through into Sickbay. Spock's face was still registering open shock and fear, his shirt soaked in Jim's blood, so there was no way Bones would feel secure until the hobgoblin was back to his usual non-expressive self.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"You have to eat something, Bones," Ritha said, a bowl of soup in her hands the following afternoon.

"I'm not hungry," he responded for the third time in a row. One would think she would eventually take the hint and go away. There was no way he could stomach food when Jim was flat on his back in a Sickbay bed not two feet from him. It just wasn't possible. The sooner she realized that and left him alone, the less likely he would be to verbally take her head off.

"I don't care if you're hungry or not. You haven't eaten since yesterday morning. Starving yourself isn't going to do him a damn bit of good, and since you have everyone else in this Sickbay too cowed to take you to task, it falls on my shoulders."

He glanced up at her with bleary eyes. "Take me to task? Last time I checked, you don't have M.D next to your name. Unless that's suddenly changed or you can miraculously make Jim get up and walk, get out of my face."

"You're not going to scare me away. The sooner you eat this soup, the sooner I'll leave you alone to your self-induced misery. Everyone here is worried just as much as you are, so suck it up and drink some calories to burn."

"Self-induced misery?" he snapped. "The man who may as well be my brother died yesterday and has yet to wake up from surgery. Where the Hell do you get off lecturing me about sucking it up?"

"Would you rather I coddle you like everyone else is doing? You have two choices here, Bones. One, suck it up and take the nourishment that will keep you on your feet to help him when he does wake up. Two, crawl into a hole and make yourself useless. The Bones I know refuses to be useless."

She really wasn't scared of him. At least that's what he read in her eyes, which were hard and determined. Blowing out an exasperated sigh, he snatched the bowl out of her hands to bring it to his mouth. The first swallow went down heavily. He thought his grinding stomach might immediately revolt. His second swallow was a little easier, and when he was certain he wouldn't instantly vomit it all back up, he hounded down the rest, warmth spreading through his belly.

A brow shot to his hairline when she produced a wet washcloth from her back pocket, which was made use of when she smoothed it over his face to take away yesterday's grime and sweat. He felt almost human again after her ministrations but doubted any gratitude showed on his face. Gratitude was beyond his capacity at the moment. Later, he'd try to remember to thank her and perhaps even apologize for being a boar.

"Why won't he wake up?" he whispered when his glance returned to the vitals screen mounted on the headboard of Jim's bed. All his years of medical training and experience hadn't prepared him for the possibility of tagging and bagging Jim Kirk. Visions of Jim's lifeless body staring at up at him from the autopsy slab plagued him.

"You know how stubborn Captain Kirk is. He'll wait until we're all ready for padded cells from worrying before sitting up and announcing he's ready to go back to work."

Bones stiffened when Ritha's arms went around his shoulders, every instinct telling him to fight the hold and any comfort she offered. In the end, though, he pressed his face against her stomach and shuddered like a ripe peach ready to fall from the tree. He didn't care how many people in Sickbay were looking on when he finally wound his arms around her hips to pull her tighter against him. The reassurance and strength she exuded were the only things that mattered. Her touch was gentle when she smoothed her fingers through his hair.

Her presence, even the pleasant combination of lemon soap and fresh laundry detergent that was her smell, seeped into him until he wasn't certain he knew where she ended and he began. It had nothing to do with thinking he was ready to do something stupid like fall in love and everything to do with the basic need for human comfort. She was there. She hadn't given up and walked away because he'd snapped at her. She was there, and somehow the ache in his chest hurt a little less. Somehow the shaking of his bones was slightly less immediate.

God knew how long he would have stayed like that if it weren't for the lift doors whooshing open to admit Spock back into Sickbay. Bones forced himself to release Ritha at his approach. Though she stepped back, she didn't immediately flee the vicinity. He hoped she forced a bowl of gruel down the hobgoblin's throat too. The hobgoblin hadn't left Sickbay for more than a couple of hours since he'd allowed visitors to start coming and going after the surgery had been completed.

Damn that surgery. The blade had entered at just the right angle to lacerate Jim's liver and puncture a hole in his diaphragm, allowing air to spread down into the captain's bowels. When the idiot had pulled the knife out of the wound, he hadn't followed the same path and had ended up puncturing his kidneys to boot. Two hours of surgery had been required to seal the organs closed, and with any surgery, infection was a real threat. All their medical advancement and sterilization procedures couldn't guarantee a single infectious bacteria wouldn't get inside and breed into an entire colony.

"President Tien To Tobra sends his deepest regrets over the captain's injuries and conveyed his understanding should we choose to abandon the case," Spock said once he was seated in a chair that may as well have been bolted to the floor next to Jim's bed.

"I've never met a more useless man in my entire life. Ritha, why don't you go give him your little 'useless' speech?"

"It only works on stubborn mules. Commander Spock, have you had anything to eat since yesterday?"

"Yes, Ensign Monroe. Lieutenant Uhura ensured my daily dietary needs were attended to this morning. Has there been any progress on downloading information from the data processors on the android unit?"

"Actually, further autopsy--that's a weird word to use in relation to what is essentially a scrap of metal and nanochips--allowed us to crack open the skull casing where we found the nano-center. All those little chips seem to convey information on body motion and act as sensors relaying information garnered from all five senses. These units can actually interpret smell."

"The data processors?" he prompted.

"Don't bother trying to get her to focus until she's got the rabid geek moment out of her system," interjected Bones.

"Right. The circuits are dead. Like you suspected, the unit releases an EMP discharge that totally fries the processor core and motherboard along with any information they contain. Ensign Chekov is taking a crack at it, but I don't think we'll be able to retrieve much."

"Ensign Chekov will not be an ensign much longer. Starfleet approved his promotion to junior lieutenant to be effective as soon as Captain Kirk is well enough to perform the ceremony."

"Great. The kid's going to have more money to spend on video games and online pornography."

"I'm not finished giving my report," Ritha said.

"Doctor McCoy, though Ensign Chekov is the youngest member of our crew, he does not comport himself with any less dignity than a man twice his age. Given his emotional maturity and experience, it is not logical for him to spend his salary unwisely."

"Who said video games and online porn is an unwise investment?"

"Hey!" Ritha tried again.

Bones jerked his glance up at her to find her standing there with her hands on her hips looking rather indignant that they were talking over her.

"Rabid android geek here. I wasn't finished with my report."

"What further information do you have, Ensign Monroe?"

"When we opened the skull, Scotty found a strange cluster of nanochips surrounding a processor that has no equivalent in other androids we've looked up information on. We aren't sure what it's function is yet, but Scotty thought you might like to take a look at it when Jim regains consciousness."

"Jim has regained consciousness." The voice from the bed they were clustered around sounded weak and lacking Jim's normal vibrancy, but it was the most beautiful sound Bones had heard in his entire life.

He was on his feet and hovering the second it registered. "You gave us the scare of a lifetime, Kid. I've got you pumped so full of menders an elephant could get up and two-step after a C-section."

Everything and everyone else faded into the background while he produced a tricorder to take scans. It wasn't the kind of injury Jim would be able to jump up an hour later from, but with the menders they had, he would probably be on his feet again in three or four days. Just knowing he was awake and ready to start talking made Bones' knees practically knock.

"Oh come on. Can't it wait until someone's given me something to get the fur off my tongue? Did you let an ape squat over my mouth to make it taste so rotten?"

"General anesthesia always results in cotton mouth. Jim, you were dead for eight minutes and twenty-three seconds. I'll lecture you as much as I want."

"Dead?"

"Yes, Jim, dead. Your heart stopped beating, and you stopped breathing for eight and a half minutes. If Spock hadn't had the sense to perform CPR in the shuttle…" He let the words trail off and shook his head.

"Huh. I have officially died and been resurrected." Jim's tone was so full of wonder Bones wanted to give him a good smack to knock some sense back into him. "Can I call myself Jim Two-Point-Oh?"

"Only if you want to die again. Try to take this seriously. You were stabbed by members of an anti-Federation terrorist organization, who poisoned the ship two days ago in an attempt to commit genocide."

The captain's brow furrowed slightly. "But they didn't try to commit mass murder. Stella said they may have deliberately picked a less virulent poison, which means they were trying to get our attention instead of wipe us out."

"Only to turn around and try to assassinate the captain, the first officer, and the chief security officer? Make sense, Jim."

"Maybe they don't want to kill all of us. Maybe they just want us to leave. Maybe they're trying to tell us something. I'm telling you, Bones, there is more going on here than meet's the eye. I feel it in my gut."

"Your gut's about as paranoid as I am! At any rate, it's not something you have to worry about as of now. Spock and Paul will handle the investigation and apprehension of the Sovereign Istabul members. Your backside is staying in that bed until I say otherwise."

"Yeah, sure. Uh huh."

"Jim, I'm not kidding! Being the CMO, my word on any medical matter supersedes yours. If you so much as put one leg off the side of that bed, I'll have you locked in quarantine faster than Jimmy Mitzer can pitch a fast ball for the Yankees."

The threat left Jim looking miserably resigned to his confinement, but at least he was resigned to it. Still, every member of his staff would keep an eagle-eye on the captain to make sure he didn't try to get up and would inform him the moment an attempted escape was made. Jim and his belief in his own godlike invincibility. Personally, Bones wanted to die when he was one hundred and twenty sitting on a front porch on a sweet little piece of Paradise in Georgia with a mint julep in his hand. Jim? He would no doubt drop the crew off, assuming they were commissioned for any subsequent missions, at a Federation outpost and then fly the Enterprise straight into the center of a sun when he was sixty and considered himself decrepit.

***

Jim outwardly rolled his eyes when Bones finally retreated from Sickbay to find a shower and a bed. Inwardly, he fought with a case of Warm Fuzzy Syndrome at how haggard the man was over his health. Considering his mother had been off-planet most of his life, leaving him with his uncle and then a series of step-fathers, someone openly caring about him was still a new phenomenon capable of turning on his internal squee. Apparently Bones wasn't the only one concerned about his health. There were cards all over the stand situated next to his bed.

The events after he'd collapsed at Jiet Je's apartment were kind of fuzzy, little more than flashes of consciousness intermingled with a strange sensation as though he'd been free-floating out of his body. Surely Spock's face becoming progressively more emotional with each flash of reality had just been a hallucination on his part. His first officer was more than capable of making facial expressions. He just didn't most of the time. Jim's glance found the half-Vulcan on a chair next to his bed.

"Did you miss me?" he asked.

"Why do you ask questions for which you already know the answer?"

"Because laying here staring at the ceiling gets boring after a while, and I'm not ready to go back to sleep yet."

"Perhaps you would like me to inquire if Doctor Westin will administer a sedative?"

"Or you could just admit you were scared of the idea of me dying."

Spock's glance was steady when he said, "Being faced with the very real possibility of your death was an experience I do not care to repeat."

Sweet and to the point without actually saying whether or not he'd been frightened. Jim smiled a little, because that was as close to a candid response as he was going to get. "Spock, why didn't you talk to me before disclosing Uhura's pregnancy to Starfleet? I received a message from Admiral Borden the day we went to Jiet's apartment."

"According to Starfleet regulation, any pregnancies occurring while on active duty in space must be reported immediately." His first officer was clearly interested when he asked, "What did the message say?"

"The admiral indicated she would have a replacement for Uhura ready when we make port on Corbezia for our scheduled yearly maintenance. Uhura is to be sent back to Earth for the duration of her pregnancy and her maternity leave."

Spock's brow furrowed ever-so-slightly, the only indication of how he felt. "I understand Starfleet's position."

"But you hoped it would be different."

"Lieutenant Uhura has undergone rigorous study and has the necessary aptitude to serve on this vessel. Serving aboard the Enterprise was her goal while at the academy. That she must be shipped back to Earth as a result of our relationship is unacceptable."

"Are you ready for the consequences of having a kid in space? Are you ready for the possibility of your kid being killed in battle if the Enterprise takes a bad hit?"

"The logical thing to do is ask Lieutenant Uhura to abide by Starfleet's ruling and return to Earth where she and our child will be safe. However, this is not a decision I am capable of making for her. She wishes to remain aboard the Enterprise and believes herself capable of continuing to fulfill her duties."

"Tell me you want her back on Earth, Spock. All you have to do is say the word, and I won't intervene with Starfleet's ruling. She'll never know we had this conversation and never know there was a way for her to stay on the ship." Of course he knew he was putting Spock in an uncomfortable position, but if his first officer could make th choice without allowing his heart to get in the way, he knew they were both capable of performing their jobs in space without allowing their child to rule their decisions.

A myriad of different expressions he'd learned to distinguish and read over the course of the past year passed across Spock's face. They were so subtle most people would have ignored them, but they spoke loud and clear about the kind of internal struggle Spock was going through. Fear, uncertainty, temptation, they were all written on his face if only people knew how to read them.

Finally, Spock responded, "Were I to rob her of her free will, the ability to choose her own path, it would be the ultimate betrayal of her trust and the bond we share. If I fail to respect her decision now, she would never forgive me, nor would I deserve her forgiveness."

Jim felt no hesitation when he reached out to clasp Spock's shoulder. "Then I'll begin an appeal proceeding and submit all the necessary documentation to force Starfleet to reconsider. You both might have to have a conference with them, but we'll work it out."

"You surpassed my expectations as a man and a captain a long time ago, Jim. You have my gratitude."

That was the first time Spock had ever expressed gratitude. He supposed it was against a Vulcan's nature, but it was better to change the subject now. "Did you find anything on Jiet Je's computer before the terrorists attacked?"

"I located old communication logs between Jiet Je Jong and Emperor Tam To Tien in which the emperor was informed prototype androids were displaying a certain amount of sentience. The prototypes feared death when the time came to shut down their functions to collect data."

"One of the classic hallmarks of sentient beings. What was the emperor's response?"

"The emperor indicated all government funding for the program would be rescinded and that all prototypes should be immediately destroyed and research notes turned over to government officials."

"Why put in that kind of funding and research only to destroy the prototypes and confiscate the research notes?"

"There is not enough information for me to theorize on the matter."

"What does your gut tell you?"

"Jim, I do not-"

He interrupted, "I don't care if you're only one percent sure of the theory. If you had to give an answer with the information we have to go on, what would it be?"

"He was afraid of sentient androids when they are naturally stronger and more intelligent than the average Istabulian, perhaps even afraid they would be used to seize control of the government."

"Sounds like a pretty logical guess to me. So what we need to figure out is who had the research notes and the ability to build subsequent units that were then unleashed on society in the form of anti-Federation terrorists. What was Jiet Je's response?"

"His response was polite and composed professionally, but displaying anger or frustration to an emperor would have been unwise."

"Then we need to find Jiet Je and bring him in for questioning."

There was a funny little feeling in the pit of his stomach that said they were overlooking something. He just wasn't sure what. These missions that led them around in circles weren't conducive to his natural style of trucking on full steam ahead. He wanted to hit things and arrest people not bury his nose in old evidence logs and research. Fortunately, he had just enough patience and moral composure not to jump the gun and arrest the wrong person.

Someone would be held responsible for the thirty-three crew members who'd been killed on Istabul Major, and he'd rather it be the right person. Killing his crew was an offense that would not be forgotten, forgiven, or allowed to go unanswered. Those who were responsible, rather directly or indirectly, would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of Federation law. Anything else would mean the lives of his crew meant nothing to him.

* * *

A\N: I'm going to leave a more candid author's note this time in the hopes of getting feedback on something in the next chapter I've been struggling with since I decided to post on this site. I'm wondering what people's thoughts are on the difference between a T rating intimate moment and an M rating intimate moment. Though I cut into the chapter directly after the action of the intimate scene, there is a discussion of an sexual nature that takes place that involves character building and growth, but I'm unsure as to whether or not an openly sexual conversation is allowed with a T rating. Obviously, there's nothing in the conversation that is too graphic, more along the lines of what you would see in a romance novel, but it makes reference to things of a sexual nature. Any thoughts anyone would like to share on deciding how to keep a T rating would be appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Chapter is shorter than normal from being edited for content. If anyone thinks this isn't tame enough for a T rating, let me know and I'll edit more. I've seen much worse with a T rating, so I just didn't know.

* * *

Chapter 12

A fog of desire on the very edge of toppling into full-fledged bliss, that's where Ritha was left hanging. Bones' flesh was entwined with hers, the texture of his skin like an addictive drug, his muscled torso clamped tightly against hers. And then nothing. His release came too soon. So close but so far away, she could only pant softly while pressed against the wall where he'd pinned her, because there was nothing she could do to make him last any longer than he had. The guy obviously hadn't had any in a while. Demanding more at the moment would be like asking Fat Albert to run a marathon without building up to it first, but the least he could do was take a few minutes to finish the job using other methods.

Heck, he was a man. He'd only need a few minutes before he was ready to go for round two, which was bound to be more physically satisfying for her. She smoothed her palms over his shoulders, a little smirk on her lips when her gaze traced the contours of his body. Was there ever a more pleasant sight in the world than seeing a man just after he'd attained release? The flush of his skin, the sheen of perspiration clinging to him, the ragged breaths fanning against her shoulder were all small strokes to her feminine ego. Just a few minutes. She could wait that long for him to regain his composure.

But the reaction she got wasn't one she had been expecting. In fact, Bones couldn't get away from her fast enough once he'd found the strength to move. Oh, he lowered her feet to the floor slowly enough she was able to stand on her own two legs, but once that was accomplished, he whipped around so quickly it left her head spinning in sympathy. She blinked. She blinked again in confusion at this sudden change in attitude, because he'd been the one to attack her. The only reason she'd come to his quarters in the first place was to check on him after his frustrating shift spent trying to keep Jim from escaping Sickbay. No one should have to go through the kind of stress he'd gone through since Jim's near-assassination alone.

When nothing was immediately forthcoming from him to explain his actions, she took a wobbling step forward and touched his shoulder. "Hey, Babe, did I suddenly develop a case of leprosy or something?"

He actually flinched! The man cursed under his breath and freaking flinched when she touched him. Her stomach got all knotted up with a rather uncomfortable sensation. Plenty of assholes notched the belt of her sexual experience, but not a single one of those assholes had treated her the way Bones was now treating her. Sex with Bones was supposed to be no-strings-attached, but she hadn't signed up to be used like a whore and dismissed once he'd had his fill, dismissed like he couldn't stand the very touch of her anymore.

"You know what, if you're going to act like that, then piss off," she hissed to mask the rejection in her tone. "I get that you're emotionally unavailable because some greedy, lazy, inconsiderate slut of a woman did you wrong, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be so mean and hateful."

The tears stinging her eyes and constricting her throat surprised her. His behavior shouldn't leave her smarting the way it did when she wasn't looking to get involved on a deeper level, but it did. She hurt, and she hated Bones in that moment for having the kind of power over her to make her feel so used. Snatching her underwear off the floor, she righted her clothing with a few tugs and was on her way to the door when his hand locked around her wrist, jerking her to an immediate halt.

"It's not you," he said, unable to lock eyes with her the way he always had in the past. "Ever since my divorce, I haven't felt… It's like she took my masculinity along with everything else. For the first time since she filed for separation, you made me feel…"

"Like a man?" She'd never seen him like this before. The Bones she knew was confident and didn't have a problem saying what was on his mind.

"I've been a doctor. I've been Jim's friend. I've been a Starfleet cadet, and I've been the chief medical officer of Starfleet's flagship vessel but not a sexually attractive man. For this to happen…" His words trailed off as he indicated the two of them and his groin. The man's glance was pinned to the wall rather than her.

This wasn't something she'd expected. Her latest crush had a way of throwing her for a loop every other day, and it was becoming hard to keep her balance. The one thing she was certain of was that leaving him like this because she'd jumped to conclusions again would be the bitchiest thing she'd ever done. Ritha took a step to the side to bring her face into his line of vision and cupped his chin so he couldn't drag his glance away.

"Between the two of us, you're the only one who's disappointed. When you aren't having regular sex, you tend not to last as long as you otherwise might."

At least that got a reaction out of him. Unfortunately, it was one of obvious disbelief. "You're telling me you're not disappointed."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. Hell, it happens to every guy." She had to wonder at the brief darkening of his expression but passed it off as post-divorce insecurities. "The only way you disappointed me was with your behavior afterwards. If you'd finished the job some other way, it would have been no big deal."

"Jocelyn would have flipped her lid, accused me of not caring about her needs, and sent me to sleep on the couch for a week."

"If you haven't noticed by now, I'm not Jocelyn. There are two ways we can handle this the way I see it. One, we forget the whole thing happened, wipe the slate clean, and take another crack at it. Two, we walk around the ship for the next year engaging in awkward silences. Seeing as how I despise awkward silences, option one works for me."

Bones snorted softly as though he couldn't believe her, but the tension finally ebbed out of him. He finally stood like a man not haunted by a bitter divorce and mistrust of women. "Door number one sounds like the best option to me too."

"Guess I won't be needing these then," Ritha said with a grin while twirling her underwear around on her finger. His mood swings were like a freaking roller coaster, but her anger and hurt were nothing compared to what he was dealing with. She couldn't blame him and reaffirm his bitterness toward women.

A little squeak escaped when Bones swept her up into his arms instead of immediately attacking her the way he'd done the first time. Soft lips nuzzled her throat as he carried her into the bedroom, her head tilting back to grant him better access so he wouldn't choke on the high-necked collar of her uniform shirt. Laughter bubbled out of her when he used the stubble on his cheek to tickle the side of her throat on his way to her ear, which was soon being lavished with attention.

Being flexible was a good thing. Being flexible enough to take off her boots without forcing him to set her on the edge of the bed was even better, because she was determined they were both going to be naked this time. When he finally did deposit her on her feet, it was only to suck on her bottom lip while releasing the catch and zipper on her skirt so it could pool on the floor. Her shirt, the offending item it was, was also divested of before they got heavily into the realm of making out.

Ritha's reward for finally being nude in front of him wasn't to have his mouth return to hers; it was to have his gaze roaming over her. A tiny twinge of self-consciousness put a damper on her eagerness when he studied her breasts longer than she deemed appropriate. She knew she had a small chest. Plenty of people had asked her why she hadn't considered breast augmentation to attain the size C cup that seemed to be all the rage. Surprisingly, women asked her about it more than men.

"You're as gorgeous as a southern sunrise, Sweetheart," he drawled.

His gentlemanly southern accent was back and sent a shiver from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Maybe he hadn't been considering the size of her breasts after all. Ritha smiled, her arms slipping around his neck to press the length of her body against his. The shock of their skin making contact made her senses tingle with delight and anticipation.

"And you're as scintillating to my senses as the possibility of a warp five engine."

A brow arched.

"Oh God, that sounded so wrong when I said it aloud!"

Bones suddenly threw back his head and laughed in a rich vibrato. It was a full, chest-shaking laugh the likes of which she'd never heard from him before and proved to be infectious. She was laughing right along with him. Perhaps it was the release of tension or just enjoyment of his company. Whatever the reason, Ritha wanted to stay right where they were, to freeze this one moment in her mind so she would have something to counteract all the danger and fear that would be in their future.

When the laughter finally faded between them, his lips sought hers out. There was no denying the response he was looking for. Her lips parted to invite him to deepen the kiss once again, but somewhere in between the invitation and the actual act, he lifted her from her feet. The next thing she knew, he was settling her amidst the fluffy pillows and down-filled comforter on his bed and coming down on his side next to her. She turned into him beseechingly. He didn't deny her.

***

Bones, despite his good mood, bristled as soon as he stepped out of his office and found Jim sitting up in bed. Last night's bedroom excursions had gone a long way in fortifying him against the captain's incessant whining about being stuck in Sickbay, but he couldn't help the natural inclination to order a sedative. For himself. Grumbling, he took the proverbial bull by the horns and headed over to check Jim's vitals.

"What are you smiling about? Don't you know there's a general order active that prohibits smiling while I'm under forced confinement?"

Ignoring him sounded like the best possible course of action. Of course, he knew Jim didn't really mean to be a headache. When one had as much energy as the captain did one naturally found it difficult to sit still for any length of time let alone for three days straight. Jim's three foiled escape attempts could be overlooked all things considered. A smile made his lips twitch.

"So you're going to ignore me because I tried to slip out of Sickbay? Come on. I've been in this bed for three days. You've gotta give me something to keep me occupied before I go out of my mind. Share the good news."

The whining in Jim's tone finally made him relent and drag a stool over, but Bones had no intention of kissing and telling. "Can't a man smile around here without everyone thinking there's good news to be shared?"

"Not when that man is you. We both know Ma dropped you on your head when you were a baby and made your face get stuck in a frown."

"The same Ma who whisked you to her house when you showed up at my dad's practice wearing nothing but a pink chicken suit?"

"Do I have to explain that again? Those chicks stole my wallet and left me on the side of the road without a stitch of clothing. What was I supposed to do?"

"Just be glad my parents believe in southern hospitality."

"Whatever. Are you going to tell me why you're smiling or not? Until Spock gets back from his errand, there's absolutely nothing for me to do."

He posed a question of his own to lead Jim away from prodding him. "Dare I ask what kind of errand you sent the hobgoblin on this time?"

"He's inviting Jiet Je Jong to tour some of the non-critical systems of the ship, but really, it's my way of getting him aboard so he can be questioned. I swear this mission gets more convoluted by the moment. If we don't have some kind of breakthrough soon, I really am considering evacuating the government and nuking the entire city."

"No you're not," Bones said in an exasperated tone. "We both know you're as dedicated to saving the lawful citizens of Bulta as you are to getting justice for the crew members we've lost."

"Am not."

"Hah! Now quit being childish, suck it up, and maybe I'll let you out of here this evening." Bones looked away from Jim when Lieutenant Colfort hurried into Sickbay to speak to Nurse Chapel.

Christine made a bee-line in his direction to inform him, "Doctor McCoy, there's been an accident with one of the engineers outside the ship. Lieutenant Karroway fell and has a compound fracture of the tibia. Do you want me to page Doctor Westin to take it?"

"I'll handle it. You just make sure Jim keeps his butt plastered to that bed until I get back. Jim, don't give her any trouble while I'm gone, or that hint of signing your release to light duty gets revoked."

"If I haven't managed to escape the clutches of your evil servants once in three days, it's not happening at all," Jim said.

Ah, the life of a Starfleet doctor. There was never any shortage of people to treat when their jobs were so physical. Grabbing his medical kit, Bones pinned Jim with a look that should have told the man to behave himself and left Sickbay with a smile in place again. At least a compound fracture didn't have to be operated on anymore. Back in the old days, a break like that would require surgery and the use of titanium rods.

The past three days certainly hadn't been all bad for him, not after Ritha's visit to his quarters. It was probably just his imagination, but he swore he could still taste her on his tongue like a fine whiskey aged to perfection. Her cries still echoed in his ears. His skin still tingled from having hers pressed up against him. After the first disastrous attempt, they'd spent a couple of hours de-stressing in the most pleasurable method he could think of. In fact, he was looking forward to a repeat at the earliest possible opportunity.

Bones was so lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary when he stepped outside the ship to locate the injured crew member until something pricked the side of his neck. A slight burning sensation followed almost immediately. Damn bugs were as thick on Istabul Major as they were in a Louisiana bayou. Only a mosquito bite wouldn't make his head spin the way it suddenly was. He leaned back against the bay door when standing became difficult. Like a nightmare where he tried desperately to scream for help only to have it come out as a rasp, he was unable to alert anyone nearby of his condition. Then the ground was somehow rising up to catch him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

One hundred thirty-two… One hundred thirty-three…

"Your Majesty!" Christine shouted, her tone incensed as though she'd been trying to get his attention for some time.

Jim jerked his bored glance away from counting the letters on the vitals monitor on the bed across from his to focus on Christine. "I know, he's only been gone an hour, and I still have several hours of confinement left to look forward to."

"I just received word from Scotty asking whether or not Bones is en route to the tarmac. Doctor McCoy hasn't answered the pages I've sent."

"He hasn't arrived yet? Bones doesn't dawdle when there's a medical emergency." He didn't experience any stabs of alarm just yet, because it was entirely possible the man was stuck in a lift somewhere. Two attempts were necessary before he was able to throw back the blanket covering his legs and ease himself off the bed. When Christine didn't stop him, he knew she was experiencing enough alarm for both of them.

"Shall I have Lieutenant Uhura page Commander Spock and inform him to return to the ship?" the nurse asked.

"Not just yet." He made it to the intercom system and pressed the direct link to the bridge. "Ensign Chekov, locate Doctor McCoy's vitals with the ship sensors."

"Yes, Sir. Happy to." There was a long pause before Chekov continued, "Ship sensors cannot locate vitals for McCoy, Doctor Leonard. Last known location logged by ship computers was in ten thousand block of Corkai and Havlin streets."

"He's outside the ship," Jim exhaled in a rush. That was when he experienced his first jolt of alarm. "Chekov, have Uhura page Spock to meet me at McCoy's last known location. Send captain's orders to Cupcake to meet me at the shuttle bay doors with a team of security officers."

"Captain, you're in no condition to go gallivanting around Bulta. When Doctor McCoy said he would sign you out, it was only on light duty. You're not well enough to undertake a search and rescue," interrupted Christine.

"Then I'm checking myself out against doctor's orders."

"You could undo all the progress your injuries have made and end up slowing down the search party."

"I'm not sure you understand, Nurse Chapel. Bones has been kidnapped, no doubt by members of Sovereign Istabul. He didn't just decide to go for a stroll off-ship when a medical emergency is going on. There's no way in Hell I'm staying in this Sickbay when God knows what they might be doing to him. Page Doctor Westin to take care of the injured engineer."

The woman's body went tense as though she struggled between knowing what he had to do and what medical common sense said he should do, but she finally nodded. "Then let me give you a mild dose of adrenaline and another mender to be on the safe side."

Between Bones' method of injecting hyposprays and Nurse Chapel's he much preferred Chapel's. She was at least gentle. Jim was rubbing his neck when the lift doors flew open to admit Ritha to Sickbay, her face cut with lines of tension and worry. One look at her expression and he knew why Bones had been smiling earlier. They'd done the deed. Ritha had taken Bones' post-divorce innocence.

"Scotty just told me. I'm going with you, Captain."

If there was one thing he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt it was that people who cared deeply about the missing in action would be like a rabid dog with a bone. Though he may have otherwise ordered an engineer to stay behind and leave search and rescue up to the security officers, he knew Ritha wouldn't quit no matter how long it took. Besides, he just didn't have it in him to order her to stay behind where she would drive herself nuts with worry, so Jim nodded.

"Get a utility belt and meet us at the shuttle bay doors in fifteen minutes. We're going to find him, Monroe. I promise you that."

"I know we are. I'll tear apart this Goddamn city if I have to. Sodding son of a motherless sheep!" she exploded.

A brow imitated Spock's.

***

When blackness lifted from Bones, he didn't immediately open his eyes. Better to let the enemy think he was still unconscious so he could have a few minutes to study his surroundings and find out just what kind of shape he was in. As far as he could tell, he was laying, without the irritation of having his hands tied, on a hard surface that smelled faintly of damp concrete. The temperature was chilly enough for cold to seep into his bones and make his nose run a little but not so cold he was shivering. An intermittent beeping sound seemed to be coming from the same room, but he couldn't hear anyone else moving around in there with him.

As far as his body went, he was a little sore, probably from being on a hard surface for some time. His neck burned where they'd struck him with whatever had administered the sedative, but other than that, he was in one piece and hadn't been beaten. One would think he would have woken up if they'd actually started torturing him already.

He finally cracked an eye open to get a look at the area. Concrete floor, concrete walls, and a rather large computer terminal situated against one of the walls. The monitor was displaying an aerial view of the Enterprise and surrounding dry dock. As far as he could tell without moving, there was only one door on the wall to his left. If this was Sovereign Istabul's idea of a headquarters they weren't nearly sophisticated enough to actually do much damage to Bulta, so this was no doubt an outpost of some type.

If this wasn't the damned worst day of his entire life, he didn't know what was. He was a doctor, not James Bond! Seeing as how there was no one else in the room with him, Bones decided to sit up and then climb to his feet, groaning softly when his vision insisted on doing the two-step from the remnants of the sedative. He had to brace himself against the wall for a few minutes until the world stopped spinning. Could he jump off while the planet was motionless?

Bones wasn't a hacker like Chekov, Jim, and Spock were. He knew his way around a computer console, but when it came to breaking open encrypted information or bypassing security protocol, he was in the dark. Taking a seat on the stool in front of the console, he perused the information displayed on the screen. They were building blueprints of the Enterprise. He didn't know how they were doing it, because Istabulians, with that strip of darker pigmentation across their eyes, would stand out among the Enterprise crew like a sore thumb. But the proof was right there in front of him. They had half the ship systems mapped out already along with detailed schematics of the Enterprise's engines, warp core, and inertial dampeners.

"This isn't good," he muttered to himself.

Either they were making blueprints of the ship to stage a critical attack that would result in the Enterprise being obliterated, or they were making a plan to build their own starship. As far as he knew, Istabulians had only rudimentary space craft that was limited to traveling to Istabul Minor and back. Their interstellar program was still in its infancy, though the Federation was helping them along. If terrorists got hold of a starship like the Enterprise, there was no telling what kind of trouble they would cause in the rest of the universe. It was likely their first act with advanced weaponry would be to level Bulta.

"Great, it's a baby Klingon Empire in its first stage of attempted expansion."

The sounds of voices just outside the door made his heart flop over and then go into hiding in the region of his stomach. Bones flew off the stool back to the area where he'd been laying and tried to recreate the exact position he'd woken up in. His eyes had just slipped closed when the door opened, allowing a man and a woman to step inside. They were whispering so quietly he couldn't hear everything that was said, not that he would have been able to understand them even if they were speaking louder. Ishta Major was a damn complex language by the sound of it. Uhura needed to hurry up with that earpiece translator she was working on.

Both man and woman were wearing similar clothing, wide-legged trousers and wrap shirts in muted colors, but neither wore the symbol Jim had described as having been worn by the attackers at Jiet Je Jong's apartment. What did surprise him was when the man cupped the woman's shoulders and lowered his forehead to rest against hers as though they were sharing an intimate moment. Right, like terrorists couldn't fall in love? Being a terrorist didn't immediately equate to being emotionless.

A third man arrived by way of the single door a few moments later, interrupting their conversation. He carried a tray containing covered dishes and a single beverage that threatened to make his stomach rumble from the scent of the food. Jim was supposed to be the one who could eat no matter what was going on, not him. Bones kept himself completely still and prayed his stomach didn't make a sound and betray him when the man took his leave after a brief exchange with the other two.

What would Jim do in this situation? He'd either talk incessantly until they got sick of him and let him go, or he would pop up from the floor and start wailing on them to secure his own release. Neither option suited Bones. Spock would try to logic his way out of the situation or use the advantage of being amongst the enemy to gain information. Seeing as how he was a doctor who wasn't trained on gathering information about alien terrorists, he wasn't sure how successful he would be.

Bones didn't get the chance to plan his course of action. The man approached him, crouched, and shook his shoulder rather gently. Gentleness from a terrorist? He'd been expecting to be smacked awake, had expected to wake up surrounded by terrorists bent on torturing him until he couldn't handle it anymore and screamed.

"Commander McCoy, the rate of your breathing has increased by one point three seven percent, and your heart rate has accelerated by three point nine four percent, both indications you are awake. It's time to stop pretending."

Oh great, they were spouting percentages like they were Vulcan. If it weren't for the terrorist part, Spock would have gotten along with them famously. The ruse over, Bones sat up and said, "You know you can get twenty years to life in the brig for abducting a Federation officer, right?"

"We are aware of the code of law in the Federation," said the woman. "Please, make yourself more comfortable and be seated at the table. You have been unconscious, therefore unable to eat, for many hours. A meal has been prepared for you."

"Like I'm going to eat anything you're offering me. Your penchant for poisoning people has already been established."

"The medical kit you were carrying at the time of your abduction has not been taken from you. Test the food for poison with your tricorder if you must. We did not bring you hear to torture, poison, or kill."

"I am Voren. This is my sister, Arta. You were brought here merely to discuss the situation our respective people find themselves in."

"Uh huh. If I believe that, you'll try to sell me a piece of swamp land."

Bones didn't turn down the offer of getting off the concrete floor, though. The chair he settled himself in wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than the damp ground. Eating the food whether or not it was poisoned would just be silly, because he had absolutely no intention of cooperating with these people.

"Brother, he doesn't believe us," Arta said, and Bones thought he detected a note of something akin to hopelessness in her tone.

"Damn straight I don't believe you. That computer monitor is flashing blueprints you're building for the Enterprise. I don't know how you're gathering that kind of information, but the Enterprise is in a state of red alert. That means they're ready for your attack. Now, why don't you let me go, and maybe I can talk the captain into going easy on the lot of you."

"We cannot release you until you've been made to understand the differences between Organics and Mechanics," Voren said rather ominously.

Organics and Mechanics. A funny flip-flopping sensation in his stomach almost made him hurl when he realized the truth of the matter, that Voren and Arta were both androids. A pair of androids were going to torture him until his mind became so twisted and broken he ended up betraying the Enterprise and all the people in board. Yeah, hurling sounded like a good idea.

***

Pacing wasn't normally Ritha's thing. Being a rather laid-back person, she didn't often find the need to engage in nervous habits, but waiting for what seemed like an eternity for Spock to show up at the location was enough to make her want to go out of her mind. Pinching her bottom lip between thumb and forefinger, she whirled and paced back to the other building. Bones' vitals weren't registering on their handheld scanners. Either he was dead, a prospect that made her blood pump sluggishly, or the abductors had technology that had scrambled his tracking chip.

Bile splashed up the back of her throat when she considered the possibility of Bones being dead. He was her lover. No matter how much she might be against getting into a committed relationship with him, there was no way she could simply not care. That thought saw her pacing back to the other building, the soles of her boots scuffing against grit and dirt that had built up on the pavement.

A sharp breath of frustration escaped, and she glanced at her handheld again to look at the time. Where the Hell was Spock for it to take so long for him to arrive? They were wasting valuable time waiting around, time Bones might not have. Like she had any room to accuse Jim of not acting quickly enough. The captain was Bone's brother-by-a-different-mother. Simply looking at the captain's anxious face told her everything she needed to know about his turmoil.

"Ritha, pretty much everyone on the ship knows you and Bones are hot after each other, so don't freak out when I try to comfort you like your boyfriend is in serious danger. Try not to drive yourself nuts worrying about him, though. They didn't go to the effort of abducting him only to kill him," Paul suddenly said.

The smile she offered up was half-appreciative and half-bitter. "Which means they've somehow scrambled his tracking chip. Finding him without that chip is going to be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Hell, for all we know, he's already been moved out of Bulta and could be anywhere. But thanks for trying to reassure me." Her thumb's up and exaggerated smile were obviously sarcastic.

"Okay, Little Miss Sarcastic, you don't need to take that tone with me. There hasn't been enough time for him to be moved out of the city yet. I've got security officers heading to every toll booth on all the major thoroughfares out of Bulta with instructions to scan every car that passes through."

"I'm sorry," she whined plaintively. "This kind of gut-grinding worry isn't something I'm used to. Has anyone ever told that you're the best?"

"Only my boyfriend, and he's biased."

"He's a lucky guy, Cupcake. This isn't supposed to be happening. We were supposed to stop here to make repairs to the Enterprise and maybe get a little R&R while we were at it. Running around like chickens with our heads cut off wasn't part of the plan. The captain being injured, Bones being taken captive, fighting androids, they weren't on our itinerary."

"And I bet you and Bones weren't on the itinerary either."

Her head waffled back and forth, and then she shrugged. "I've wanted in Bones' pants since I saw him at the academy, but that's neither here nor there. Where the Hell is Spock?"

"And now that you've been in his pants, you don't want to give them up. Spock is en route. He was at the university all the way across the city."

"Wait, how do you know I've been in his pants?"

"I saw you leaving his quarters looking pretty disheveled, but your secret is safe with me. It won't get bandied about the ship."

"Thanks for that. If anything happens to him…" She let the statement trail off when a cab pulled up to the head of the alley and allowed Spock to step out. Her relief was palpable, because his arrival meant they could get down to the business of finding Bones.

"Jim, you were instructed to remain in Sickbay until further notice," Spock said, pinning the captain with an intense gaze. "As Acting Captain until you have been cleared for duty, I must ask you to return to the Enterprise so as not to jeopardize your health."

"Wild horses couldn't drag me back to that ship. Bones was last seen leaving Sickbay, but his last known location was in this city block as logged by the ship's scanners. Scotty is conducting interviews to see if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary."

"I anticipated this response and have made the decision not to have you locked in the brig for disobeying an order from the acting captain. By perusing security video recorded by the university's cameras, I have ascertained Jiet Je Jong's fate. Three frames were recorded depicting the professor's abduction from the parking garage."

"Show me the video," Jim said.

Teeth ground together to stop herself from demanding to know what any of this had to do with finding Bones. Sure, it was strange the creator of the androids had been abducted, but they had more pressing matters on their hands. Finding Bones alive had to come first as far as she was concerned. However, implicitly trusting the captain and the first officer came with the territory when serving on the Enterprise.

Ritha scooted a little closer so she would be able to look over Jim's shoulder when Spock whipped out his handheld device. The video recording was surprisingly clear, and though it was dark outside at the time the footage was taken, she could clearly see two men in purple uniforms give the professor an injection that immediately rendered him unconscious. Purple uniforms didn't really mean anything to her, but Jim reacted to seeing them immediately.

"Son of a… Run this through facial recognition software and see if we get a positive match. We need all the evidence we can possibly get connecting Tobra to Jiet Je Jong's disappearance if my gut is right."

"How many times has your gut been wrong?" asked Paul.

"Only once."

Spock dutifully informed the captain, "The images have already been submitted to facial recognition software. There is a positive match to Calit Cy Corga, chief body guard to President Tien To Tobra."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The information didn't fully register in Jim's brain for a few seconds, but when it did, he let out a string of curses, slapped Spock's handheld closed, and kicked an empty beverage container across the alley. "That lying, scheming son of a bitch! When I get my hands on Tobra, he'll whimper for his mommy."

"Wait," Ritha interrupted, "what does this mean in terms of finding Bones? It's all well and good to know Tobra is abducting people, but shouldn't we be looking for our lost crew member?"

His brow flattened when he looked at her. Generally, he liked Ritha, but every once in a while, she got on his nerves. Considering he was operating on his last one, he was just about to tell her Spock and him were way more worried about Bones than she was since they'd known him longer when Spock saved everyone the headache.

"We have established a connection between President Tobra and the anti-Federation rebellion," began Spock, tucking his hands behind his back. "Tobra had the man responsible for creating the androids abducted. Following that train of logic, it becomes statistically probable he was directly responsible for the creation of the androids we fought at the food processing plant."

"See, lying fucktard, aisle one. If Tobra created the androids, he's also somehow connected to Sovereign Istabul, and therefore, directly or indirectly, connected to Bones' abduction," Jim concluded.

"Then why get us involved? The risk of us digging too deeply and finding out he's responsible for the rebellion would be too great," said Paul.

"That's the million dollar question we don't have an answer for yet. We're overlooking something," responded Jim. His hands were literally shaking with anger directed squarely at Tobra. Tobra had better pray they found Bones alive and in one piece, because Jim wouldn't hesitate to kill him with extreme prejudice even if he'd probably get court martialed for it.

"The sentience of the robots," Ritha commented in a much less annoying tone. "The only reason I can think of for getting us involved is if he somehow lost control of the androids."

"Given their sentience, it is possible the motivation of Sovereign Istabul has changed and Tobra feels his involvement may become public knowledge, jeopardizing his office."

An uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach made Jim lean back against a wall. Tobra was either a dead man, or he would spend the rest of his natural life serving time in a Federation prison for one count of kidnapping, thirty-three counts of murder, and at least a dozen acts of blatant terrorism. The shaking of his hands only got worse when he closed his eyes and imagined Bones in pieces after being tortured. Now he knew how Bones had felt when Spock had arrived at the Enterprise performing CPR on him.

His head lifted when the soft hum of engines approached. "Now what?"

Continued weakness from his injury and the resulting surgery were pushed aside when several vehicles clogged the streets at either end of the alley. Presidential guards piled out of law enforcement vans, headed up by none other than Calit Cy Corga himself. Jim had a few choice words in mind for that son of a bitch too. Trapped between two solid walls of concrete wasn't the most pleasant of sensations. Considering there were only seven Starfleet personnel with him pitted against more than twenty guards, the odds were stacked drastically against them. The guards might be carrying crude weapons compared to a Starfleet phaser, but their numbers easily nullified that.

"Captain James T. Kirk, President Tobra would like to extend a special invitation to you and your group to join him for supper. Turning down this invitation would be unwise," Calit Cy Corga informed them. His invitation could have been misconstrued as a social visit, but the weapon he carried couldn't.

"I think we're going to have to take a rain check," Jim responded while scrambling to assess the situation. "See, we're kind of in the middle of something here and just don't have the time."

"Jim," Spock said, a slight waver in his tone.

"I will repeat myself only once. To refuse the great honor our president bestows upon you would be unwise."

This was certainly not the kind of situation he wanted his crew to be in. No matter what choice he made, the outcome could be disastrous. Fighting twenty guards could get more than one of them killed. It could get Spock killed, because Spock would inevitably get hurt trying to protect him. It could get Ritha killed, and though he wasn't terribly close to her, Bones needed her to get over his bitterness toward women. Fighting meant they might be too weak or injured to seize an escape opportunity. Surrendering meant they could be taken to a location where there simply weren't any means of escape.

In the end, Jim, using Spock's body to shield his left side, carefully slipped his hand inside his pants pocket to feel for the channel button on his handheld. He opened a channel directly to the Enterprise's bridge. "Lower your weapons. That's an order. You can stop calling it an invitation, Corga. We all know Tobra is the leader of Sovereign Istabul and is having us arrested."

The prick actually laughed at him before saying, "President Tobra will enjoy hearing all about your conspiracy theory."

Breath hissed through his teeth when guards flooded into the alley to gather up their phasers and bind their hands behind their back. There was a tense moment in which Spock looked like he might get physical in response to how physical the guards were being with Jim, but their arrest was completed without incident. Imagine having their own weapons turned against them. He could picture the headlines now. 'Famed crew of the USS Enterprise shot dead with their own phasers.' That would be just their luck.

As soon as they were all stuffed inside the back of a van, Jim leaned his shoulder up against Spock, not because of the weakness plaguing him, but because of Spock's innate telepathic ability when touch was involved. His first officer would be able to feel what he was feeling. He was never calm. There was always some kind of visceral emotion swirling around inside him, but Jim purposefully calmed himself this time to communicate to Spock why he'd made the decision he had. At least by allowing them to be arrested, they would all be inside the Sovereign Istabul headquarters, past their security measures, and in a position to strike if they were lucky enough. If not, Scotty would think of a way to free them.

Bouncing around in the back of the van for what felt like a couple of hours was tantamount to torture. Chapel's dose of adrenaline didn't last nearly long enough, so by the time they came to a stop and the van doors were opened, Jim was leaning heavily against his first officer. He righted himself so as not to clue the guards in to his fatigue, something that could be exploited and used against the rest of his crew members. Night had fallen during their trip. The air was muggy and heavy to breathe in when Jim dropped from the back of the van without the benefit of his hands to steady himself. Being jarred so heavily felt rather like Keenser was gnawing on his injured side.

By the looks of things, they'd been transported to a warehouse district in the seedier part of Bulta. Lights on the side of the building illuminated a small courtyard filled with crates and machinery, but there weren't any company logos for him to casually remark to Spock about so Scotty could hear it through the open channel on his handheld. They were led through a side door into an empty warehouse, separated into two groups, and taken down a pair of lifts into the building's bowels. From there, Jim's group was prodded into a barren room where he lost sight of the second group.

Aside from the two security cameras mounted in opposite corners, there was nothing remarkable about the room. Everything was concrete. Not a single window or piece of furniture alleviated the sense of being trapped inside a box, which meant Jim's worst scenario had come true again. Escaping from a room without any points of access would be nigh on impossible. Splitting them into two groups just made it all the more difficult, because when Scotty did show up on a white horse to save their asses, they would have to fight through the warehouse to find the others. Jim let out a frustrated groan.

"Sit down, Captain."

Jim wasn't given the option of obeying. The elf caught him under the arms and lowered him to the floor so he could lean up against the wall. Like it was any more comfortable than standing up. Okay, so it took less energy on his part. He looked to the three faces with him. Spock, Ritha, and Cupcake. It was obvious to Jim Spock was concerned. Cupcake was stoic while leaning his shoulder up against the wall, and Ritha could only be described as looking casual. She had her shoulder blades against the wall and her stomach thrust out for balance.

He was saved from admitting he might have, maybe, possibly, made the tiniest of mistakes by surrendering without a fight when the door opened. Tobra, along with five guards armed with Starfleet phasers, entered the room. One of them carried a chair that was unfolded to allow Tobra to sit down. The damned douche bag looked far too cool and assured for Jim's liking.

"I knew you were a scheming bastard the moment we realized we were fighting androids. If I'd gone along with my gut instinct then, you'd be in the brig, and I'd be sipping cocktails with my feet propped up."

Tobra tilted his head up a little to look down his nose at them before saying, "Such is not the truth. You would still believe me a concerned president were it not for the interference of the Mechanics."

"Nah, we still would have found out the truth. You didn't cover your tracks as well as you thought. We know you're in control of Sovereign Istabul. We know you abducted Jiet Je Jong and forced him to build the androids being used by Sovereign Istabul. So wipe that smug smile off your face."

"What an astute man you are, James T. Kirk. I suppose you were too smart for me after all." The blasted man actually laughed while simultaneously crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. "I'm aware your handheld device has an open channel to the Enterprise bridge. Unfortunately for you, the signal has been scrambled along with the signal of your tracking chips."

It took every fiber of his will not to blanche at the news. Scotty would have no way of knowing which direction they'd been taken in. Jim managed to keep his expression flippant. "As I was saying. You're a lying douche bag of a terrorist, and I'm going to enjoy slapping a pair of restraints on you and carting you back to San Francisco for what I hope will be an extremely lengthy trial. If I were you, I'd be praying Bones is in one piece when we find him."

"And your crew is touted as the best Starfleet has to offer. No wonder the Romulan was able to destroy Vulcan when such is the state of intelligence rampant in the Federation."

Jim winced on Spock's behalf but knew he wouldn't have to restrain the elf even if Spock was practically shaking with anger.

"You have no right to show such disrespect to an entire race of people," Spock bit out. "You have no right to defame the intelligence of the Federation when you are unfamiliar with the facts of the case."

"Obviously I have a right when I've managed to so completely fool the best Starfleet has to offer. Gentlemen, and lady, there is no Sovereign Istabul, and you're going to tell me the weapon access code for your starship."

His lips thinned at the same time Spock's eyebrow hit his hairline.

***

Bones had caved. After several hours of captivity, he'd finally caved. The plate in front of him only had a few crumbs and smears of sauce left on it, the contents having taken up residence in his stomach. Pleasantly full, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Arta and Voren had left a while ago when another Mechanic had come rushing in to whisper to them, so he allowed the silence to stretch. Eventually, Jim and Spock would blast through the wall to rescue him, and for the moment, he wasn't being tortured. Always a plus in his book. Realizing both facts--it was a fact he would be rescued--meant the initial alarm of his predicament had fled.

He was just settling himself deeper in his chair to get comfortable when the door opened again to admit the two Mechanics. Voren's expression was grave, but Arta's was full of abject sadness. Her cheeks were stained with blue streaks as though she had been crying, as though the blue liquid filling their bodies also served as tears. His stomach dropped through the floor. Androids weren't supposed to understand emotion let alone react based on it. They weren't supposed to cry, feel grief, or experience depression. Something was terribly wrong with this situation.

"Commander McCoy," Voren began, "the time has come for us to talk. Two of our brothers have just been killed attempting to intercept Tobra's presidential guard. Unfortunately, their lives were given in vain, because your captain and several other crew members have just been taken into custody."

His back went rigid in the chair. "Why would Tobra take them into custody?"

"Because you were getting too close to the truth. He could no longer go about his machinations while you were distracted," Arta said.

"Come, there is something you should see, Commander."

His glance shot between the two of them when they headed over to the computer console still displaying blueprints for the Enterprise. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when Arta inputted a series of commands that brought up a live video from inside a concrete room much like the one he was now in. Jim, Spock, Ritha, and Cupcake were all inside the room along with several presidential guards and Tobra himself. Voren adjusted the volume.

"_There is no use denying the inevitable. One way or another, you will give me the access codes to your ship's weapon system. I beseech you not to make me hurt you."_

_Jim shot furtive glances to each of the crew members inside the room before straightening his shoulders. "Eat shit and die."_

"_Have it your way. You Earthlings give your women far more equality than they are afforded on Bulta, but I believe you still harbor a soft spot for a woman in trouble." The president moved with the speed of a rattlesnake when he put his fist to Ritha's jaw. Lips curled up into a lazy smile, and he took a moment to smooth now-disheveled strands of hair from his face. _

_For her part, Ritha didn't so much as yelp despite the fact her lip was now bloody. She gathered up a mouthful of blood and spat it out dangerously close to the president's polished shoe._

"_Asshole!" Jim shouted, now being restrained by a phaser planted squarely against his chest. "You want the damn codes, come over here and drag them out of me."_

"_But I know men like you, James T. Kirk. No amount of torture done to you will make you break your silence, but torture to those you feel responsible for… There are so many delightful possibilities. When I'm finished with her, all this smooth, creamy flesh will remember for a lifetime what pain feels like."_

"_You know what, Tobra? This is where I tell you to suck my dick," Ritha commented in a bored tone._

"I'm going to kill him," Bones choked out. "I'm gonna autopsy him alive!"

Arta's hand came to rest on his forearm as though she was trying to comfort him before saying, "We will help you free your comrades, but you must promise us something in return. Promise the violence between us will end."

"You've been poisoning water sanitation plants and trying to blow up food processing plants, not to mention killing thirty-three crew members in total. How can I believe you anymore than Tobra?"

"What choice do you have?" asked Voren. "We are the only ones in position to help you rescue your comrades and your woman."

He couldn't believe he was doing this, but the image of Tobra hitting Ritha and restraining Jim with a phaser was burned into his mind forever. "Give me the short version. And I do mean short. Every second they have to stay with Tobra is a damn second too long."

Arta began, "Emperor Tien was a devoutly traditional man. When the Federation began making overtures to the people of Istabul Major, he contracted scientists to build autonomous Mechanics capable of making command decisions. Emperor Tien planned to unleash them on the people of this planet to remind them of the greatness of the empire. The original prototypes refused to engage in hostilities."

"An android army all with superhuman capabilities. Well, Goddamnit, that's just great. How were the prototypes able to refuse. You're nothing more than programming."

Voren continued, "Jiet Je Jong wanted us to make rational, moral decisions rather than becoming killing machines for the empire. He developed the nanochip technology which allowed us to experience every sense an Organic takes for granted. Over a course of years, the nanotechnology evolved into a capability to experience emotion. Fear, morality, and love." He paused to take hold of Arta's hand then.

"Okay, so you're saying that you're sentient."

"If Organics still describe sentience as the ability to feel emotion, then yes. Perhaps in some way, our emotions could be considered artificial, a result of binary coding telling us we should respond to depressive stimuli with depression, but it is no less real to us," Voren responded.

"Emperor Tien and his son, President Tobra, reopened the project under the strict control of governmentally-appointed scientists. The scientists built one hundred units with deactivated nanoprocessors, but Jiet Je Jong had anticipated this possibility and created a fail-safe. The certaktin filling our interior carries a special enzyme that reactivated the nanoprocessors."

Voren said, "By that point, many communities wanted to join the Federation and reorganize the government to a federal republic. This was obviously not acceptable to Emperor Tien, so we were deployed with orders to destroy any community demonstrating friendship with the Federation."

"We escaped," continued Arta. "My brothers and sisters turned on the men Tien sent with us, killed them, and went underground into hiding where we have been attempting to raise awareness about Tobra and his father's desire to seize control again."

"When you arrived, Tobra saw an opportunity for your advanced weaponry to wipe us out, so he fabricated the story about Sovereign Istabul as a means to get you involved."

"Then why did you gas the Enterprise instead of coming to us and giving this information?" asked Bones, his brow furrowed.

Voren answered, "You attacked our brothers at the food processing plant. Tobra convinced you of his lies and asked you to destroy us, so we sought to make you leave."

"Thirty-one crew members died as a result. Thirty-one innocent people, who had no part in your war with the government of Istabul Major, lost their lives. And you expect me to empathize with you?"

"You murdered seven of our brothers," Arta retorted with a frustrated roll of her eyes. "You are Organic, and all we saw was that you were siding with other Organics. The logical course of action was to frighten you into leaving the planet. That is why we chose tetrahydine. We knew only a small percentage of your crew would succumb to the gas."

"Gee, thanks for being so Goddamned considerate. If there is no Sovereign Istabul, then why was Jim attacked by Organics at Jiet Je Jong's apartment?"

"Tobra knew you were digging into the old information and were getting close to realizing Jiet Je Jong is missing. Once you realized that, you would start putting the pieces together. It is logical to assume he would send Organics disguised as this fictitious organization to substantiate the lies he's been telling you."

"With all due respect, your programming must be faulty if you think I'm going to believe any of this when you have blueprints for the Enterprise on your computer."

"The blueprints were downloaded from Tobra's hard drive during a hacking session looking for evidence we could bring to the people of Istabul Major. Tobra will destroy your crew, use the Enterprise to regain control of Istabul Major as an empirical monarchy, and copy Starfleet technology to build other ship," Voren said.

Well that took some of the kick out of his whiskey. It also made too damn much sense to dismiss as the Mechanics lying to him. He wanted to mentally whine about them being technology and therefore completely untrustworthy, but it was becoming harder and harder to do that. "All right, then why abduct me?"

"Voren proposed abducting you, your captain, or the Vulcan to get you away from the technology of your ship for us to explain what was happening."

"Half-Vulcan," Bones corrected.

"Your captain has been sequestered to your sickbay for many days, proving a difficult target. The Half-Vulcan has heightened senses and some degree of telepathy, making him an undesirable target. You were therefore selected as the easiest ranking member of your ship to obtain."

"Well, that makes me feel so much better," he grouched. "All right, then let's go get my friends back before Tobra can prove just how sick and twisted he really is."

Wasn't it just so damned ironic. He was the one crew member on the entire Enterprise that was leery of technology, but there he was getting ready to storm a secure bunker with a bunch of androids. Jim, Spock, and Cupcake owed him so damn much for this. Ritha got a free pass just for putting up with his snarky self for so long.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Her skin is so fair, so fine and soft, not at all course like the sun-roughened flesh of an Istabulian woman. Don't you agree, Captain Kirk?" Tobra's voice was lilting. Those opaque eyes studied her intent as he traced the contour of her cheek. "The weapon access code for the Enterprise."

"You know I can't give it to you no matter what you do to her. You know I can't risk the lives of my entire crew and every lawful citizen of Istabul Major for one person," Jim bit out.

A yelp was swallowed back when Tobra's hand connected with her cheek hard enough her head recoiled against the concrete wall his men were pinning her to. She damn well knew how hard this was on the others, damn well knew every instinct was screaming at them to make her pain stop. That was what any crew member would be feeling. They were a family that lived together, fought together, and sometimes died together. Anything she could do to hide her pain from them was a good thing.

"That the best you got?" she demanded before snorting derisively.

"President Tobra," Spock cut in. "The Federation is aware we docked here to make repairs. If they do not hear from us in a reasonable amount of time, they will know foul play was involved. You will be brought to justice. Do not add to your list of crimes by assaulting a Federation officer."

"Silence, Vulcan." His command was underlined by the resounding crack of his palm striking her cheek again, but he was quick to remove a handkerchief from an inner coat pocket. It was used to wipe the blood from her split lip off his fingers. Tobra then tugged on his suit jacket to remove any wrinkles.

Her tongue darted out to take away the blood threatening to drip off her lip onto her chin. There was something cold and calculating about Tobra that was almost frightening. It wouldn't take much for him to make the leap from terrorist to tyrannical emperor with all the rights, privileges, and sadism required to mass-torture his people.

"I don't think you understand the size of the Federation," Jim said. "Even if your plan succeeds and I give you the weapon access codes, one starship against a fleet of Starfleet and Federation vessels won't save you. Your people voted for Federation membership. They won't allow one tyrant to enslave an entire planet."

"The Federation will not dictate the rule of law here. By the time I'm done with them, the people of this planet will remember the might of the Istabul Empire. When I conquer Istabul Minor in their name, they will repent of going astray. The Federation may come, but they will find a planet eager to defend themselves against your federal republic."

"Your plan will not succeed. The people of Istabul Major were wearied of living under empirical rule else they would not have voted for Federation membership. They will not embrace a return to your traditional government no matter what you do. You will be seen as a madman who craves power and massacres his own people to obtain it."

No amount of biting the inside of her cheek could hold back a grunt when Tobra's fist connected with her stomach. By the time he finished, she was left sagging in the arms of his guards. The more Jim and Spock argued with him, the harder his blows were becoming. Duct tape, aisle three. Scotty would eventually find them. All she had to do was hold on long enough for him to come storming into the building on a white horse. Then they could go find Bones.

"Very well. I truly believe you won't willingly surrender the access codes. You are emotionally and morally stronger than I gave you credit for."

"Let us go. Surrender yourself into our custody, and you'll receive a fair trial by a jury of your peers. What are you doing?"

One eye was starting to swell shut, but she still had one good eye left to see what Jim was referring to. Corga produced a slim knife that was settled in Tobra's hand. Florescent lights made the blade gleam wickedly with a promise of pain and perhaps even degradation if she ended up screaming. He was an insane terrorist. Of course he would get off on slicing and dicing her like she was an onion to his Slap Chop Three Thousand. She told herself it was okay to scream, reminded herself screaming didn't equate with weakness. As if she would give him the satisfaction.

"I only need one captive with the knowledge of the access codes, not eight. The Istabul Empire lasted for three thousand two hundred and thirty-three years until your Federation arrived. You destroyed generations of tradition, brought shame to the house of the emperors, and destroyed the pride of the To family."

"Don't do it, Tobra," breathed Jim, his jaw locked tight.

Nothing prepared her for the pain. Tobra made a small incision on her cheek. Then the blade was sliding inside and separating the top layer of skin from the underlying soft tissue as though he were filleting a fish. On its own, the pain was tolerable. She was just mentally congratulating herself for holding back her whimper when a jolt of electricity pulsed through the knife blade. She convulsed, shuddered, and fought against the men holding her, but she didn't scream.

"Tobra!" The captain surged to his feet and lunged at Tobra and the guards only to be brought up short by Spock's arm locking around his waist, she assumed to keep the captain from putting himself in needless danger.

"Watch her squirm, Kirk," Tobra said in a raspy voice. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly in quick little pants. The dilation of his irises and flush of his cheeks told her he was nearing some kind of sexual experience just seeing her blood and pain. "Look at how her muscles convulse into spasms, how she quivers."

The pain didn't stop no matter how much she willed it to. Electric pulses entered under her skin against raw nerves. There was no fighting the muscle spasms he seemed to be getting off on. All she could do was grit her teeth, clench her hands into fists, and continue to ask herself what her father would do in this situation.

Pale overhead lights suddenly flashed red an instant before a loud siren blared from the spears in the ceiling. Someone on the other side of an intercom said, "Your Imperial Highness, there are intruders in the building, levels one, three, sub-floor A, B, and C. Starfleet personnel and Mechanics."

Ritha could tell the man was not happy even before he ripped the razor edge of the knife through her skin to extract it. Of course he wasn't happy. What man was when they were on the verge of physical release only to be interrupted. She yelped a little when the guards released her arms and allowed to her fall to the floor. There were just enough brain cells left to tell her to stay put so as not to regain Tobra's attention.

"You were ordered to turn the scrambling device on," the man said evenly.

Corga was quick to respond, "It was activated, Your Imperial Highness. There is no possible way they tracked us to this location."

"Mechanics," spat Tobra. "Kill everyone but the captain. I want him alive. Destroy the computer consoles on the way to the transporter bay."

Trying to get the shuddering of her body to stop and some semblance muscle control to return wasn't easy. Blood pooled from her cheek onto the grit-covered floor, but she was able to peer out at the rest of the room to see Cogra advancing on the captain. Obviously he needed to be signed up for the Stupid Awards, because there was no way Spock was letting the man get to Kirk without a fight.

Oh how right she was. Spock was on his feet and in front of Captain Kirk in a heartbeat with a subtle look on his face Ritha had already dubbed the "eat shit and die" expression. The guard apparently hadn't learned how to properly use a phaser yet, because when he pulled the trigger, Spock was able to withstand the jolt, at which point, the Half-Vulcan actually leaped off his feet and brought his fist down like a hammer toward Corga's head. She had absolutely no sympathy when the guard went flying backward from the force of the blow.

Chaos erupted when a sudden explosion rocked the building, sending bits of concrete raining down from overhead. Guards moved at the same time she shoved to her feet to get in on the action. A tight knot of bodies now stood between them and the president, who was dodging through the door with what she guessed was not a single second of remorse for abandoning his guards to do battle on his behalf.

"Coward!" she shouted after him.

"Ritha, plant your belly on that floor," Paul ordered. Their chief security officer slugged a guard in the jaw, ducked beneath a returned swing, and used his broad shoulders as a battering ram to slam his opponent up against the wall.

She'd just spent an hour being beaten on by a lily-livered tyrant wannabe. There wasn't a single chance she was missing out on this opportunity to get a little even. Of course, she also wasn't stupid enough to take one of the guards face to face in her condition, so rather than charging the nearest one, she waited until Spock had Corga on the ground wailing on him to rush past. A sound kick to the back of a guard's knee that was advancing on Jim threw him off-balance enough she was able to use his momentum against him. Grabbing his shoulders, she dragged him down as she went onto one knee. His back cracked against her thigh.

The phaser the guard had been carrying went sliding across the floor. She ducked into a roll, snatched it up as she went past, and came up on her knee to blast another guard, at which point she positioned herself in front of the captain. Jim didn't seem at all impressed by her feat of dexterity or her willingness to place herself in front of him. In fact, he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a push behind him. Great, they were forming a shield train. Spock would bleed for Jim, and Jim would bleed for her. Hopefully Paul didn't feel left out.

Four Starfleet personnel fighting against a dozen presidential guards could only hope to hold off the inevitable long enough for help to arrive. Paul and Spock were admirable. They were fighting side by side, providing a broad shield to protect Jim and her from the worst of it, but they were being pressed into a corner by the overwhelming numbers. She was in tandem with Jim, firing over his shoulder and around their protectors to pick off as many guards as she could.

Disaster, an inevitable with any Enterprise mission, struck when Paul took a phaser shot to the shoulder and went down, more susceptible to the stun setting than Spock. There was no way Spock would be able to hold all of them off. Action in the room froze when a section of wall suddenly caved inward behind the guards, allowing people in Starfleet uniforms and Istabulians to race inside and engage in combat. It took a few seconds to sink in that Bones, his phaser drawn, was one of those running inside.

"Goddamnit, do I have to do everything around here?" Bones snapped.

"Watch your fire!" Jim shouted.

Corga had to be getting desperate with the shift in numbers. Desperate men did desperate things as the saying went. The man lunged at Spock with the knife Tobra had used against her, a knife still coated in her blood. He never reached his target. A soft ping could barely be heard over the rest of the chaos in the room, but Corga dropped to the floor, allowing her to catch sight of Bones standing in the center of the room with his phaser still aimed in Corga's general direction.

"No one hurts the green-blooded hobgoblin but me during staff physicals."

"Once again, I must remind you that I am not a hobgoblin. I refuse to be classified in any scientific genus that also includes sprites, dwarves, and Tinkerbell."

And they were back to arguing. Ritha ducked out from behind Jim to get in another shot, but with the numbers now overwhelmingly in their favor, the skirmish was coming to a rapid end. When some of those fighting on the side of good were androids… Well, there was just no contest. They may as well have broken out the margarita mix and pulled up chairs to have a ring-side seat at Ass-Whoop-A-Palooza 2259.

Ritha was shaking a little as the adrenaline ebbed out of her, shaking enough she leaned up against the wall to keep her balance. She wasn't expecting Bones to push past Spock and Jim and certainly wasn't expecting it when his arm went around her waist to lower her to the floor where he whipped out his tricorder to start taking scans. All she knew was that his presence was somehow more comforting than it should have been. His soft fingers on her face prompted her to look up into his eyes.

"Don't worry about a thing, Sweetheart," he began, his accent a little heavier than normal. "I'll have you fixed up in no time. There won't even be a scar left by the time I'm through with you."

"Paul?" she asked.

"Already gave him the necessary injections to counteract the phaser's stun. The idiots didn't even know how to advance the setting."

Her split lip shouted a chorus of '.Want' when she smiled to reassure him. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"I'm the doctor. You let me be the judge of that. I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner than we did, but everyone had to be armed and a plan formed."

"You came up with a plan? It's a wonder the building didn't collapse on our head." He got another smile from her when he gave her an injection with his hypospray.

"Yeah, well, Scotty said his good juju shorts would counteract any bad juju coming up with a plan created."

"Bones, stay here with Ritha. I'm leaving a couple of security officers with you, but we have to go after Tobra. If he gets away, there's no telling how long it will take to track him down again," Jim said.

One of the Istabulians responded, "Going after him is useless at this point. Tobra had this facility outfitted with a transporter beam. He will have made use of it by now."

"Then the destination coordinates should be logged in the machine's computer. We must simply retrieve the data," Spock said.

"Unlikely. Tobra is an intelligent man. He will have instructed a guard to remain behind and destroy the computer, but you are welcome to search the facility and find it if you're unwilling to take our word for it."

"Okay, who are you again?" Jim asked.

Bones didn't take his attention away from her when he said, "Jim, this is Voren, his sister, Arta, and the rest of their siblings. They are Mechanics who abducted me to convince me they're not the bad guys, but I can explain everything in more detail after you've found that rat bastard."

"Wait, you came on a raid with androids?" she inquired with a look of shock.

"The Enterprise was fresh out of white horses."

"I believe our priority should be discovering the whereabouts of President Tobra before he is able to enact a plan to destroy the Enterprise crew. Now that he is aware we will not surrender the weapon access codes and know he has committed several crimes, he is likely to attempt a critical attack," Spock said.

"Right," Jim agreed. "Cupcake, you all right?"

"Well enough," the chief security officer said.

"Take your security officers and do a sweep of the building. Find our missing crew members. The rest of us will make sure there aren't any functioning computer consoles left in this building."

Ritha was getting ready to push herself to her feet as the others filed out when Bones' hand stayed her. Could she help but be a little shocked to see the open concern on his face? His visage, as he searched her face with his eyes, was almost frightening in how expressive it was, how deep the concern went. Warning signals screaming that she was getting too close to him, too fond for her comfort level, went off in her head, but she held herself perfectly still.

"Are you all right? He didn't…"

She interrupted him before he could speak it aloud, because she knew what he was going to ask. "No, he didn't. I'm just bruised and a little cut up. The androids didn't hurt you, did they?"

"They prefer the term 'Mechanics,' and no, they were actually quite cordial."

"Did you just defend a piece of technology? Leonard McCoy, who thinks transporter beams are a necessary evil and claims to have hoodoo spells blanketing the ship to keep us all from being sucked through a crack in the hull, defended a piece of technology?"

"Shut up," he said flatly.

Then nothing else mattered, because his arms were going around her to gather her against his chest, and she was fighting against the need for distance between them to maintain her sense of self-preservation and the desire to sink into his warmth and comfort. They were supposed to be having a fling, not taking intense comfort from one another. Flings were safe. Flings kept her from falling for the wrong guy who would end up using and hurting her. Ritha lost the battle when she wound her arms around his shoulders to lock her fingers behind his neck.

***

A breathy curse slipped from him when Jim busted his shin against one of the chairs in Tobra's office while fumbling around in the dark. The thumping and shifting of furniture accompanying the abuse to his shin was so loud in the absolute silence he swore someone should have heard it, so he froze in place. No sounds of running feet heralded the arrival of guards. He sighed in relief.

"The point of keeping the office dark, Jim, is to avoid detection. Do try to be as careful as you possibly can," Spock whispered.

"Yeah, I get the point," he hissed.

Three hours of collecting evidence from the warehouse they'd been held in had been a wasted effort in terms of locating Tobra, and Jim so badly wanted to get his hands on that man. Death was too easy. He wanted Tobra squirming in the deepest, darkest, most violent prison in Federation territory for the rest of his natural life. But death would work just fine if the man insisted on resisting arrest. It wasn't often a person completely snowballed him the way Tobra had, but he'd wanted to believe the man a forward-thinking leader ready to bring his people into the modern world. Oh how wrong he'd been. Jim hated being wrong.

Dim light from the monitor flared inside the office when Spock was able to maneuver around the desk and boot up the computer terminal located there to begin searching for clues. The Mechanics had been right in their assumption that Tobra had ordered the transporter beam terminal destroyed after he'd evacuated. No information could be gathered from its hard drive, which left them at square one. Istabul Major was a big planet with a population of just under five billion people, so there were plenty of places for a tyrant to hide.

While his first officer quietly went through the data on the computer, Jim pulled data pads from the shelves behind the desk to look through. Some of them required a special pass code, so he went through a series of commands he'd learned in preparation for hacking the Kobayashi Maru to bypass the security protocol. Federation Evidence A through Z? The data pads contained information incriminating Tobra in all kinds of embezzling procedures funneling tax dollars into an account on Istabul Minor.

Jim had only looked through two pads when the lights in the room activated without warning, prompting him to drop the pad and yank out his phaser. There wasn't a chance in Hell they were lucky enough for Tobra to walk through those doors, not when security officers had been stationed outside the building for hours waiting to see if he showed up. Heavy wood doors were thrown open to admit Jong Je Jin.

"Captain James T. Kirk!" the man exclaimed, a hand flying to his throat as though startled. "I was certainly not expecting to find you here. I thought perhaps one of the cleaning women had triggered the alarm. Is there something I can help you with?"

His phaser remained out of its holster. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you could start by telling me where the Hell your boss is. Then we can move to reading you your rights and slapping you in restraints to be carted off to the brig."

"Jim, there is no need to threaten Jong Je Jin. When he understands the magnitude of the charges he is facing, he will be ecstatic to aide us in the search for Tobra."

"Charges? What charges do you speak of? I've done nothing against Federation law."

"Come off it, Jong. You're the president's assistant. We all know you have to be involved in his extracurricular activities, so just fess up."

Jong's eyes were wide, his hand fluttering over his heart when he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Has the president done something to warrant this invasion of his privacy?"

"It is possible, however unlikely, that he is unaware of Tobra's true nature."

"Right, and I'm the Tooth Fairy," Jim snorted. "Your precious president is a lying, scheming douche bag. He kidnapped members of my crew, tortured one of my engineers, and is attempting to gain access to the Enterprise to use its weapons against the planet. Why? Because he wants to reinstate empirical rule and destroy any trace of the Federation."

"Such cannot be true. President Tien To Tobra has always been a man of his word to me. I've been to his home and spent time with his family. My daughter plays cordially with his daughter." Jong's face was mottled by the time he got done speaking.

"I'm not falling for the act again. You two fooled me once when Tobra convincingly reacted like he had no idea he'd sent us off to face androids. There's an old Earth saying. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I won't be a fool twice."

"There is a manner in which we can be certain of Jong Je Jin's guilt or innocence," Spock interrupted. "Sir, if you will allow me to perform the Vulcan mind meld, we will find the proof we need to trust you. No pain is involved with the link."

"You sure you want to do this, Spock? You might be digging through the mind of a terrorist flamingo Hell-bent on committing mass murder."

"I am certain."

Jong looked back and forth between the two of them for several tense seconds before he nodded. "Very well. You have my permission as I have nothing to hide from either of you. If President Tien To Tobra is, as you claim, engaging in illegal activities, I am honor-bound to disclose all information I may posses."

Heebie jeebies raced up Jim's spine when Spock found the contact points on Jong's face to initiate the meld. He remembered all too well those moments that had felt like an eternity when Spock Prime had initiated a meld with him. There was no other way for two people to be so connected, their minds interwoven so thoroughly they became one identity. He didn't care to experience that kind of vulnerability ever again and didn't care to endure the weight of Vulcan emotions again either.

While Spock was otherwise engaged, he moved to the wall of windows and peeked out one of the curtains. The city was dark. Starfleet security officers were so well camouflaged he couldn't find them. Thankfully, they'd found the other four security officers alive and well at the warehouse, so the death toll wasn't rising. But how quickly it would if Tobra managed to launch an attack on the Enterprise.

"Captain, Jong Je Jin speaks to the truth. He had no knowledge of Tobra's designs and no involvement in the planning or execution of any illegal activities," Spock finally announced. "Thank you, Sir."

His turned to face the pair again. "Did you know your father is missing?"

"Yes. He has been missing for several months. Do you suspect President Tien To Tobra is involved with my father's disappearance?"

"We have evidence of it. Spock found security video from the university parking garage in which Calit Cy Corga abducted your father. His apartment didn't look like it had been abandoned for months, though."

"I have been visiting to feed his fish and water his plants when I can. Tell me how I can help find him and bring the president to justice."

"Tell us where to find Tobra," Jim said.

"Think carefully, because it is entirely plausible he will attempt an attack on the Enterprise. We cannot allow more lives to be lost to his scheming."

Minutes passed as Jong seemed to give it careful consideration, but finally, he said, "Tam To Tien's residence in the southern hemisphere. I was accidentally privy to a communication between father and son in which President Tien To Tobra spoke of returning to his father's residence if things went badly. At the time, I assumed he was talking about his presidency."

"Thank you. I'm going to have my security officers escort you and your family to the Enterprise where you'll be safe until this is over. If we fail to apprehend him, he might become aware you helped us."

"Please find my father."

"We will endeavor to reunite you if your father is still alive," Spock promised.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The night air was thick as beef stew, chunks of anxiety and tension floating around in a soupy sauce of adrenaline when a transporter beam lit up the inky darkness. Microscopic molecules coalesced into perfect alignment as Ritha, Paul, two other security officers, and one Mechanic appeared behind one of the many outbuildings of Chateau Tyrant. As soon as she solidified, Ritha, her hand damp on the handle of her phaser, darted into the building's shadows where she sent a message to Captain Kirk to let him know her group was in position.

Tam To Tien's residence on the outskirts of Cardabul city was an entire compound sitting on a plateau. An iron fence and four guard towers made moving around the grounds nigh on impossible without being spotted, so she immediately went to work popping off the cover plate in front of her to gain access to the door security system. The system was much the same as could be found on the Enterprise in that it required a thumb print verification to release the locking mechanism. Assuming she could shut down the power grid inside, Captain Kirk's team should be able to safely navigate their way into the mansion under the cover of darkness.

Freaking tyrants. What was it about ultimate power that made men go insane with lust for it? She blew a tuft of hair out of her face, removed a tool from the utility belt she was wearing, and cut the appropriate wires while her small security detail kept watch. Within seconds, the door slid open with an audible whoosh and allowed her to duck inside. Anyone who needed their own self-sustained power grid was up to no good as far as she was concerned.

Power cores--she instantly recognized them as doratonium rather than dilithium crystals--hummed softly, emitting a modicum of light inside the structure. Ritha dropped onto her back under the main console to remove the cover plate and expose all the wiring. Bones and the captain, who had both been completely against her coming on the mission at first, had voted to blow up the entire building until Spock had pointed out how much attention that would bring. Only then had they reluctantly agreed to both let her accompany them and do things her way, which was so much less invasive than their way.

"Make haste, Ensign Aritha Monroe," Sodrin, their Mechanic ally, whispered. "A guard will walk this path on rounds in precisely thirteen minutes."

It had been so long since anyone had called her by her full first name that she actually took her attention away from her work for a moment. Her father was a huge fan of the musician Aretha Franklin, but in his excitement, he'd spelled it wrong when giving her name to the nurse at the hospital where she'd been born. Funny how memories like that came up at the oddest times.

"I'm making haste. Just keep your eyes out for trouble heading our way. Five minutes, and we'll be out of here."

Five minutes turned into ten minutes when she discovered the main terminal was wired completely backwards from the normal configuration. She had to sort out all the different components to figure out which wires to remove. Her hands were starting to shake with adrenaline as the time ticked by, because being caught inside the structure would put her right back into Tobra's hands. Guessing what he would do to them wasn't difficult. Sweat dribbled down her temples, but she finally snipped a bundle of wires and used a small drill to drop the main circuit board from inside the console, plunging the entire compound into darkness.

Turning the power off had the same effect as telling a Klingon his father was an incompetent, impotent weakling; guards were immediately shouting from their towers, giving Ritha and her team a tiny window in which to escape the building. She stuffed the circuit board inside a satchel so technicians couldn't just replace it in five minutes, shoved to her feet, and was immediately sandwiched in between Sodrin and the Starfleet security officers. One of the conditions Captain Kirk had come up with to allow her to join the mission team.

***

Bones was tasked with one primary job; keep Spock alive. The directive was a personal request from Jim. Spock was going to be a father. He needed to be alive to raise his kid, but given Jim's experience with his own father's death, Bones figured the captain was just a tiny bit biased. Protecting Spock was the only reason he was laying flat on his stomach behind a hedge in one of the manicured gardens flanking the mansion. It was the only reason he wasn't plastered to Jim's side with his hypospray ready. As far as he was concerned, Spock was a lot more resilient and harder to kill than the captain.

Perspiration beaded his upper lip and brow. Right next to Jim's name on his list of people to worry about was Ritha. She was out there somewhere being put in more danger than he was comfortable with, especially when it had only been two days since she'd been beaten by a sociopath with delusions of grandeur. Dozens of engineers were stationed on the Enterprise. Why she had to be the one to cut power to the compound was still a mystery to him. Why he cared so much wasn't so much a mystery as it was a fear.

His heart turned over when spotlights panning the grounds suddenly blinked out, prompting guards stationed in the towers to shout. Vague silhouettes of men darted from the wall, all converging on the power grid outbuilding where Ritha and her small security detail were located. If they didn't get away fast enough… He couldn't finish the thought. Their current plan was another one of Jim's fly-by-the-seat-your-pants ideas, and for whatever reason, those usually worked out for them.

Thankfully, there wasn't enough time for him to freak out over thoughts of how many wounds he would have to treat. Spock moving prompted him to launch to his feet to dash across the open ground between the garden and the side door they were aiming for. Most of the guards were now closing in on the outbuilding, so they had a clear shot. At least that was what he thought until he leaped over a low stone wall at the edge of the garden only to find himself within spitting distance of an automated gun. The gun was mounted on a tripod and swung in their direction with a mechanical whir. USS "Murphy's Law" Enterprise struck again.

Bones grabbed Spock's shoulders in preparation for shoving him to the ground when Arta made an impossible-for-humans leap from the top of the wall. She came down directly on the tripod, the weight of her body bending the tripod's legs. A quick jerk of her hand bent the barrel and caused the gun to malfunction, allowing the rest of them to dodge into the heavy shadows surrounding the building.

"There should be a guard station in the first door on the left, but with the power out, most of the guards will probably be patrolling the mansion. I'll take point. Their projectile weapons will do less damage to me," Arta whispered.

"Logically," Spock returned in a voice that was barely audible. "Clear each room quickly and as quietly as possible."

Truth be told, he was a little surprised Spock didn't argue or simply shove himself in front of Arta when she eased the door open to step inside. Jim would have ignored the Mechanic, would have insisted on rushing headlong into danger. Both he and Spock ducked in after her and flattened themselves against the wall separating them from the guard station to provide cover. A pair of guards shouted from inside when she threw the door open, but their shouts were cut short by two successive blasts from her phaser.

The rest of their team fanned out into the dark interior, soft soles making not a sound on the polished marble floors. Bones, and he'd pointed this out during their mission briefing, was pretty sure someone like Ex-Emperor Tien had a paranoia complex a mile long. Assassination attempts, nobility vying for power, and being dethroned generally led to suspicion and paranoia. There was definitely psychological precedence for it, so it wasn't hard for any of them to guess the Tien had a panic room or bunker somewhere in the building. Finding it would be the problem.

As far as he was concerned, everything was going smoothly right up until the point Arta left the hallway and entered the mansion's foyer. A mechanical whirring sound echoed in the empty room a second before bullets started flying. Bones shouted, grabbed Spock, and flattened him against the wall to get him out of range as projectiles pinged off Arta's metal skeleton, tearing through her skin in the process. She lunged to the other side of the hallway to take cover.

"Where the Hell is the power to work those guns coming from?" Bones shouted over the sudden commotion.

"Internal generators," Spock responded while disentangling himself from Bones' grip.

"Well that's just great! We're being pinned down by old fashioned projectile weapons. Arta, you okay?"

"In a moment," she responded while fiddling with something retrieved from the utility belt she wore. A small device was used to seal the holes in her skin and prevent certaktin from spilling out of her.

The gun stopped firing as soon as they were out of range, so he'd bet his bones the damn thing was motion-controlled. Problem was they couldn't stand there the rest of the night, especially not when he saw flashlights heading for the door they'd entered through. They would be caught between a machine gun and guards in a matter of moments.

***

"Sodrin and his team are pinned down behind the guard barracks at the rear of the property, and Arta's team is taking cover from an automated machine gun in the building's foyer," Voren said softly.

Jim didn't steal the opportunity to curse; he stole the opportunity to get royally pissed off that Tien's guards were more well-organized than he'd hoped. He pressed a button on his handheld to open a channel to the Enterprise. "Scotty, as soon as you've got a lock on Ritha and her team, get them out of here. Acknowledge."

"I'd love to help you out, Captain, but something's preventin' me from gettin' a lock on your tracking chips," Scotty responded, his Scottish accent heavier than normal.

He did curse then. "They must have known we were coming. Tell Sulu to rendezvous with Ritha's team behind the guard barracks to manually extract them with the shuttle."

"Consider the order relayed," said Scotty.

If everyone had agreed to do things his way, the building would already be a smoldering ruin, and Tobra and Tien would be dead. Unfortunately, Starfleet and the Federation frowned upon blowing up buildings to wipe out bad guys. Lengthy trials were apparently much more amusing.

Hunkered down behind one of a half dozen hover and wheeled vehicles inside the mansion's garage, he flicked on the portable schematics finder. The device went to blue screen and flashed an error code. Damned Istabulian scrambling technology. It screwed with every piece of equipment in their possession. Murphy's Law dictated arresting the president and his father had to be as difficult as humanly possible. They couldn't just waltz in and slap the men in restraints. No, they had to pluck a single hair off a rabid baboon's ass, dangle a strip of bacon in front of a crocodile using only their teeth, and give a baby hippo a tooth cleaning while angry Mama was standing nearby without sedatives.

Fortunately, Jim had a back-up plan. He just didn't entirely know what it was yet. A door on the other side of the garage deposited them into a utility room, and from there, he led Voren and several other Mechanics through to a kitchen where simmering dishes had been abandoned on the stove. Gunfire could be heard at various proximities from the kitchen. For now, the other two teams were serving as a distraction, but they were on something of a timeline. One of the teams could be wiped out at any moment. His hand was on the next door when Voren stopped him with a soft clicking sound, prompting him to look back at the Mechanic, who was now hovered over a data pad left on a counter.

"A menu list and delivery schedule," Voren whispered.

"I hardly think Tien ordered dinner brought to his bunker before the lights shut off," Jim responded. "We've gotta keep moving."

The Mechanic actually rolled his eyes before saying, "I was thinking more along the lines of a scheduled delivery to Jiet Je Jong if he's being held in this compound."

"Right," Jim commented. "If he's here, he won't be held in the mansion proper where any guest could find him. Wherever he is, the Tyrant Twins might be nearby." The universe provided.

The small screen lit up when Voren activated the pad, allowing the Mechanic to peruse the contents. "A meal was delivered to the basement level an hour ago."

"Any idea about a point of access for the basement?"

"If the layout of this mansion is anything like a standard Istabulian home, we'll reach the basement from the laundry facilities. Make a left out that door, and it should be three doors down."

Opening the door prompted several guards rushing toward the foyer to whip around. Jim dove across the hall to a small recessed area and used the wall as cover to return fire. Chunks of plaster crumbled when their bullets lodged in the wall too close to Jim's head for comfort, but Voren and his brothers and sisters, all outfitted with borrowed phasers, were quick to dispatch the guards. Running around with Terminator and his buddies, while he might be safer, was far less satisfying than being able dispatch things himself.

He shuddered while shoving away from the wall when a security officer in the foyer shouted for a medic. Would he ever get used to his crew members dying? God, he hoped not. For as terrible as the weight of that responsibility was, the moment he stopped caring was the moment he would hand the Enterprise over to Spock.

It was a short jaunt down to the third door, but Voren insisted on opening said door first. A mechanical swish sounded as soon as the door opened. Bullets were suddenly peppering the doorway, one bullet lacerating Voren's forehead and pinging off his metal skull. The Mechanic didn't just stand there. He leaped through to dash across the laundry room where he actually ripped the gun off its brackets. See, Terminator. Jim was starting to feel a little useless.

A lone door the machine gun had been protecting opened to a set of dark stairs that led into the basement. The place was piled high with what looked to be antiques. It was like any other basement Jim had been inside. Dust was heavy in the air. A moldy smell tickled his nostrils, but he caught the barest hint of a chemical smell.

"There's nothing here," Voren hissed, his tone sounding decidedly irritated and disappointed. "Perhaps there's a second basement."

The Mechanic was on his way to the stairs when Jim said, "Just wait."

His glance was trained on cobwebs in the far corner. A puff of air stirred said cobwebs when there shouldn't be any moving air. Jim smiled and fairly skipped across the basement to feel the seam of the corner until he located a miniscule crack allowing air to flow. The universe provided again. He held up his hand for silence from the others and began pulling through the basement to find some kind of access panel that would open the secret door.

Things were going remarkably well. That meant disaster had to strike, and it struck with a vengeance when the two corner walls suddenly slid inward. Jim caught just a glimpse of Tobra and an older Istabulian before half-completed androids, their metal skeletons still exposed where skin had yet to be placed, stepped into the opening.

Ten androids all spoke at the same time and in precise unison, their voices sounding more digital than the voices of the Mechanics. "Loyalty and prosperity to Emperor Tam To Tien."

***

"Ritha, if you don't keep your head down, I'm knocking you senseless!" shouted Paul over the rapid barking of projectile guns.

"So what? You want me to stand here with my thumb up my ass?"

She leaned around a corner to fire a few shots at the guards taking cover behind the low garden wall. They were at an impasse. Neither could advance without sustaining heavy casualties, and with Sodrin challenging a knot of guards that had come up in a flanking position, there was little they could do but stand there and exchange fire. Stalemate, at least until their phasers ran out of charge or the guards ran out of bullets.

One of the two security officers suddenly shouted and crumpled to the ground, a bullet passing through her body to imbed in the wall of the building they were using for cover. Ritha spun around to see a third contingent of guards coming up on their rear from behind another outbuilding. She shouted a warning to Paul a second before a bullet grazed his temple to tear a laceration in his skin. His blood splattered her face.

Paul went down on one knee but struggled back up to open fire, dropping three guards in rapid succession, but the distraction cost them. Guards from the garden wall used the opportunity to bail out from behind their cover and race toward the barracks. They would be overrun, surrounded, and taken into custody or outright killed in a matter of moments, and there wasn't a damn thing Ritha could do to stop it. She fired off shots as quickly as her phaser could reload a charge, but there were just too many of them, an entire freaking army loyal to the emperor.

The situation was looking pretty hopeless when precision photon blasts from above mowed through the guards advancing from the outbuilding and left them screaming and scattering in all directions. She glanced skyward to see exterior lights from the Enterprise shuttle they'd brought with them hovering overhead. Said shuttle set down nearby. The door was flung open, and she could see Chekov leaning out taking pot shots at guards approaching from the garden with a phaser.

"Ensign Monroe, I cover you!" Chekov shouted. "Get your team out of there."

"Sodrin, we're extracting!" That was the captain's order. As soon as she'd cut off the power, Scotty was supposed to have beamed their team out of harm's way, and defying the captain's order, no matter how much she wanted to, was just not in the cards. One didn't ignore an order from one's captain just because it didn't happen to be convenient.

Ritha slung her arm around Paul's waist to steady him as much as she was able and hurried for the safety of the shuttle. Their dead comrade could be retrieved after the battle for a proper funeral. The living came first. She'd just darted into the shuttle when Sodrin leaped from the roof of the barracks, the weight of his body leaving a depression in the ground when he hit. Guards were on his tail, but he launched into a handspring, twisted in mid air, and came down running backwards while dropping the guards. She wanted to learn how to do that!

"Take off, Ensign Chekov," Sodrin said. "I will rendezvous with the second team and lend support."

"Are you sure?" Chekov asked.

"There are more guards than we expected. Take off." That said, Sodrin dashed in the mansion's direction.

A protest was on her lips. If there were more guards than expected, Jim, Spock, and Bones would need every available phaser, but Chekov input the command to close the shuttle door before the temptation to defy the captain's orders became too strong. Bones was in there getting shot at! The very real possibility of his death churned her stomach.

"Sulu, we're clear," Chekov said.

"We can't just leave the other teams here," Ritha bit out.

"We're not," replied Sulu from the pilot's chair. "Just hang onto something and help Lieutenant Brighton get his bleeding under control. Leave mowing down the guards outside the building to us."

As Sulu lifted the shuttle from the ground, she hurried over to Paul to retrieve a field hypospray from her utility belt, standard equipment on a mission. It was pre-loaded with a mender, which made it idiot proof. She popped him in the neck and then grabbed hold of a support railing to avoid being thrown across the shuttle when Sulu swung them around to open fire on a knot of guards headed for the mansion.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Bones yelped and flattened his body over a wounded security officer when slivers of crystal from a chandelier overhead rained down all around them. The foyer was littered with dead guards, but Starfleet had suffered its fair share of casualties too, far too many with wounds he couldn't treat without immediate access to Sickbay. That's what sickened him the most. People shouldn't have died from injuries that were treatable, from injuries he could have saved them from if they weren't in the heat of combat.

"Kirk to second mission team," Jim's voice said from his communication device. "We've got problems in the basement. Daddy Tyrant was successful in creating emotionless androids. As soon as you can get away, rendezvous with us in the basement to lend support."

Spock, taking cover near a central staircase, had to shout to be heard over the fighting. "Fall back in groups of two! Arta, instruct your brethren to abandon their posts and make their way to the rendezvous point to help Captain Kirk."

A quick hypospray injection full of a mender cocktail stabilized the patient Bones was treating. He helped the man get tucked away behind the stairs where he could stay out of range and then dashed back to Spock in a crouch. Technology was evil! How long had he been saying it? Years at least, but no one wanted to listen to him. They all chalked it up to his overly-suspicious nature. Maybe people would believe him after the clusterfuck that was attempting to arrest the To Tyrants.

"Have your security officers pull back to the library. We can bust through there and circumvent the guards hunkered down on the opposite side of the foyer," Arta instructed.

Too many things were going on at once, because Lieutenant Sulu chose that moment to contact them, at which point he said, "We're in position to make a wounded pick-up. The grounds are clear of guards, so send them out the west door to be extracted."

"Do you have Ritha and her team?" Bones asked.

"Yes, Sir. They're safely aboard the shuttle," Sulu responded.

Relief was so profound he actually took a moment to sigh and allow his shoulders to slump. There was one less person for him to worry about getting shot up. The healing power of a good fuck didn't magically make him head over heels for her, but being that intimate with her made him care more than he should have.

Rather than sticking around to make sure the wounded got out safely, time Jim might not have, Spock instructed security officers to oversee the extraction of the wounded. The hobgoblin shoved out of his crouched position and bailed out of the foyer after Arta, Bones hot on their heels. One of the doors in the entry hallway led them into a large library filled with old fashioned books. It reminded Bones of his father's library back home. His father was an avid collector of antique books.

Bones flinched when Arta charged a wall, the force of her body impacting against it tearing a gaping hole that allowed the rest of them to duck through into a kitchen. From there, the Mechanic led them down a short hallway filled with crumpled bodies of imperial guards and to a laundry facility where an automated machine gun was little more than wreckage on the floor. At least they knew they were going in the right direction.

More guards came rushing down the hall from the opposite end with guns drawn. He tried to get Spock out of the way in time, had hold of the hobgoblin so he could shove him into a recessed alcove, but he was too late. A bullet lodged in Spock's shoulder, accompanied by a gush of green blood. The only thing Bones could do was jab him in the neck with his ever-ready hypospray and whip out his phaser while dragging both of them into the alcove for cover.

Blasts from his phaser were fired around the corner as the rest of the security officers rushed forward to engage the guards, giving him the time he needed to asses Spock's injury. Vulcan anatomy had thankfully saved Spock from any critical damage. The bullet could be extracted when they were back on the Enterprise, but it was a close call.

Between Arta and the security officers, the guards in the hallway didn't last long, so their group pushed into the laundry facility where sounds of combat drifted up the stairs. Loud shouts from Mechanics working together, Jim barking commands, and things breaking prompted Spock to dart toward the opening, but Arta brought him up short in order for her to take point.

***

Hissing, Jim wiped his uniform sleeve over his forehead to keep blood from trickling into his eyes from a gash he'd sustained. He jumped away to escape the android fist swinging at him, quite certain his skull would be crushed if he took that blow. A pile of rubble on the floor behind him proved his undoing when he tripped over it to land on his back with a hard thud. The android was more than willing to seize the opportunity, but Jim scrambled backward to stay out of reach until he came up against the wall.

The first thing that came to hand was a stack of ornate chairs, so he shot to his feet, grabbed up one of the chairs, and swung it as hard as he could. Wood splintered as it broke apart against the android's metal body. A slight yelp left him as he stared stupidly at the remnants of the chair leg in his hand. Obviously, someone had replaced his brain with cottage cheese if he thought wood would do any damage to a metal skeleton. He grabbed up another and hurled it at his opponent while leaping onto a nearby desk and bailing off the other side.

Putting the desk between them only bought him a few moments, because the android made a standing leap from one side of the desk to the other, its open palms smacking against Jim's chest hard enough to shove him back into a concrete wall. Then it was on him. Hands closed around his throat, threatening to crush his wind pipe. He had the oddest thought while trying to find some way to get himself out of this situation; had someone written "choke me" across his forehead in invisible ink?

Black spots were beginning to form in front of his eyes when his hand closed around an old copper grounding rod. He went still and allowed his eyes to roll to the back of his head as though having succumbed to suffocation. Metal hands eased their grip slightly, and when that happened, he moved in a sudden burst of speed and rammed the pointed end of the grounding rod through the android's eye and into its skull interior.

Said android twitched and started pulling itself off the rod. Having the contents of its skull cavity scrambled like eggs should have killed it, but the thing was still moving. Jim fumbled with his phaser to open the battery pack compartment, because the only thing he could think to do was shove the electric battery against the copper rod. Charge was conducted through the rod into the android's innards. The thing fell over and started thrashing on the ground. Within moments, it ceased all movement.

There was no time to get his harsh breathing under control when another enemy broke off from fighting the Mechanics to head in his direction. It was brought up short when Arta suddenly leaped from the middle of the stairs to come down on top of it. Her fingers plunged through its opaque eyes and soon dragged out a small processor. His would-be opponent stopped moving.

"Next time we have to arrest a pair of criminals, we're blowing up the Goddamn building!" Bones shouted when he booked it in in Jim's direction.

The doctor stabbed him in the neck with his hypospray, making him flinch in response. No one else flinched when Bones injected them! "Hey, I was the one who wanted to blow it up in the first place, so yell at Spock. He's the one who talked us out of it." His glance found Spock trying to subdue an android with Arta's help.

Jim forced himself back to his feet. Despite Bones' protests, he jerked the grounding rod out of the android and launched himself back into the thick of things. At least he had a blueprint on how to kill them, but every second the battle lasted was a second Tobra and Tien could come up with some insane plan to escape. The battle had to be brought to an end before the pair of them went underground.

A feminine cry jerked his attention away from the android he'd just staked. He was expecting to see one of their security officers being killed, but that wasn't the case. Arta was staring across the basement in what he could only describe as horror. The reason for her reaction became evident when he found Voren on the ground. Certaktin coated the floor in a pool around him. An android ripped the Mechanic's head off, reached inside, and came out with a handful of processors that were crushed when it closed its fist.

He shouted. He slammed the battery of his phaser against the copper rod with more force than necessary, jerked the rod free when the charge dissipated, and sprinted in Voren's direction even though he logically knew it was too late. Fury welled up inside him, fury for the loss of so much life, fury that another life had to be given in order to stop Tobra and Tien, fury at Jiet Je Jong for creating these beings with the capability of feeling grief, because he could not wipe Arta's look of horror from the insides of his eyelids. She felt what he would feel if Bones or Spock had been killed. She felt, and it twisted his insides up in waves of nausea.

Kicking the asshole in the face to get him away from Voren's body, he used his makeshift weapon as a baseball bat. It connected solidly but not hard enough to leave a dent. The android, its face expressionless, spun around the pole and fisted its hand in Jim's shirt. Before he could be hurled across the room, Arta grabbed its shoulders and jerked backward, allowing Jim a split second to turn the android's brain into pureed soup. Jim delivered an electric charge that was conducted straight into its body. It fell to the floor convulsing.

The instinct was there to reach out and wipe certaktin tears from Arta's face. How many others had felt the same grief over eons of time? Sentience was not all it was cracked up to be, he surmised. But Jim didn't reach out to try to offer her some comfort. Comfort had no place in combat. All they could do was keep fighting, secure justice for Voren and every other Mechanic and Organic who had suffered at the hands of Tobra and Tien. It was all he could give her.

Pockets of fighting thinned out as the androids were slowly pressed together into a corner where they would be less mobile. The final chaos of battle ended when the last android was dropped, but that didn't mean they could stand there taking it all in. Security officers were already engaging guards who had amassed at the top of the stairs, so the only way to truly put an end to the fighting was by putting Tobra and Tien in handcuffs, finding the scrambling device, and then beaming out of the area.

"Spock, find a way to open the damned door. The corner over there opens when the two walls shift inward," Jim said before rushing over to the stairwell to lend support to the security officers.

The number of guards willing to fight and die for Tien and Tobra was almost frightening. He could only hope they were mercenaries rather than men actually loyal to the idea of an imperial government. One thing that was glaringly obvious was the need for Federation to give the people of Istabul Major more support in stabilizing their new government.

A crash from behind him jerked his attention around to find Spock and Sodrin toppling over a wardrobe to expose a small access panel. God, he really hoped Spock knew how to circumvent the thumb print activation, but the elf was a member of the USS Enterprise. That meant they would be forced to somehow get a jackhammer to the basement to tear up the concrete to gain access. If their situation wasn't so dire, he would have settled the back of his hand against his forehead and engaged in southern belle hysterics when, after a few cut wires on the access panel, the corner opened up. Jim offered up a cocky smile that said he was damn well going to enjoy this when he caught sight of Tobra and Tien's surprised expressions.

"Tam To Tien and Tien To Tobra, I hereby place you under arrest for the murder of over forty Starfleet personnel, God knows how many Mechanics, and the attempted take-over of a Federation-sanctioned planet," he said, his tone dripping with pleasure.

Tobra actually stepped in front of his father, an older man whose black hair was streaked liberally with white, and said, "I had you in the palm of my hand. I, son of the great Emperor Tam To Tien, killed the invincible James T. Kirk when I sent those men to Jiet Je Jong's apartment."

Jim's brow imitated Spock. "You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to legal council before, during, and after court proceedings. You have the right to a trial by a jury of your peers on your home planet if said planet is a member of the Federation."

"I killed you!" he shouted, raising his voice for the first time. "Had the assassins I sent been a little more thorough, your doctor wouldn't have been able to revive you."

"You have the right to attorney and client privilege. You have the right to be treated fairly and humanely under Federation regulation three two nine paragraph R addressing the treatment and transport of suspected criminals."

"You were dead because the might of the Istabulian Empire is far greater than that of your weak and cowardly Federation."

"You have the right to receive private visitations from all listed family members. You have the right to directly face your accusers, and you also have the privilege of being given the opportunity to call off the guards trying to come down the stairs to somehow prove you aren't a mindless killer."

The old man suddenly started laughing, a raspy sound as though he couldn't quite catch his breath. He laughed so hard he was forced to grip his son's shoulder for support lest he fall. "My son was right about you, Captain James T. Kirk. You are indeed stupid. If you are the best the Federation has to offer, the entire coalition will collapse."

A muscle in Jim's jaw ticked. He was getting just a little sick of everyone calling him stupid. "Oh really, and I guess you're going to tell me just why I'm stupid this time."

"Captain Kirk is far from unintelligent as you falsely assume," Spock cut in.

Not even Tobra seemed to know what his father was laughing about if his expression was any indication of his state of confusion. "Your Imperial Majesty," he said softly.

"Article forty-seven paragraph two of Istabul Major's agreement with Federation to change the government structure from an imperial monarchy states that neither I nor any of my blood relatives may be charged for any alleged crime committed on Istabul Major soil. We have impunity for everything that's taken place here."

"Bullshit!" Bones shouted from behind them.

"There is a precedence for such clauses to be included in Federation agreements with imperial governments. However, I believe you will find the clause only relates to past crimes committed while acting as emperor. We have every right to charge you for crimes committed after the inception of the new government."

"Alas, Commander Spock, you are wrong in this instance. The article states we are given impunity for any alleged crime on this planet or any other land holdings on neighboring planets. It says nothing about limiting the impunity to past crimes."

"Federation interpretation of the clause limits the impunity to crimes taking place while acting as emperor," Spock reiterated.

"Yet I have a right to be tried by a jury of my peers on my home planet, thus all interpretation of any clauses, regulations, or by-laws is left up to the sentiments of Istabul Major. Sentiment on Istabul Major does not limit the impunity."

Jim was either going to get killing mad or throw up. The bastards had found a loophole to exploit, so the urge was there to just shoot them both and have done with it. None of the security officers or Mechanics would have even thought twice of turning him in had he shot them both square in their foreheads. But as long as neither of the pair attacked, he couldn't legally or morally justify blasting them.

"Well isn't that just dandy," he spat. "Okay, so we can't arrest you, but we damn well can take you into custody for questioning and hold you for forty-eight hours without arresting you while I find a legal way to nail your sorry hides to a wall."

"The Federation will never allow them to escape prosecution for the deaths of our crew members," said Spock.

"Nah, it'll just take the court systems nine years to get their heads out of their backsides to do it. Their lawyers will think of every possible motion to dismiss and continuance in the books to exploit."

He wanted their damn heads on a silver platter, but until this mess was sorted out, he would have to content himself with temporarily throwing them in the brig. His visage squirreled up in a look of supreme annoyance, Jim turned on a heel and tossed back over his shoulder, "You want things to go your way? Fine. Call your damn guards off before I'm tempted to use the two of you as shields."

"You're just going to let them get away with it?" Arta asked in disbelief. "Everything they've done to my people, everything they've done to your crew members and this planet, and you won't be able to charge them? Voren will never have justice?"

"We'll find a way to make sure they pay for what they've done. Spock, have them taken into custody for questioning. Search the facility for that damn scrambling device so we can beam out of here. Bones, find Jiet Je Jong and release him."

The sound of Tobra's self-assured laughter tempted him to end it then and there with two phaser blasts. A pair of cackling hyenas would have grated on his ears less than the confidence they oozed. He knew just how much pleasure they were taking in getting one up on the Federation, knew there was a very real possibility they could walk if Istabul Major's court system interpreted the clause in their favor. The very idea of those two breathing free air and being given further opportunity to destroy everything the people of Istabul Major had fought for gutted him. Jim was a lover, not a hater, but he hated Tobra and Tien with the fury of a thousand suns.

Arta's expression shifting from one of extreme anger mixed with a healthy dose of grief to deadpan calm was the only warning he got. If he was honest with himself, he didn't move as fast as he could have to grab her arm when she jerked the phaser from her holster. People were shouting at her, but Jim uttered not a single sound before two successive shots stopped the terrible laughter behind him and plunged the basement into an eerie silence.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The clapping of a single pair of hands was the first sound after the quietude. Bones, a medical kit dangling from his shoulder, applauded Arta for taking control of the screwed up situation and said, "Bravo. Brilliant display of marksmanship."

Shock entered her expression when she stared down at the gun in her hand as though she couldn't believe what she'd done. She dropped the weapon and took several steps back from it before shooting furtive glances to those gathered around her. "They were going to get away with everything they've done. They were going to be freed and come back in the future to attempt another revolution. More people would have died."

Another tense silence--Bones had to wonder if he was the only one getting a little sick of tension and silence--gripped the room while all eyes turned to Jim. Everyone seemed to be waiting with baited breath to find out how the captain would respond. Technically, what Arta had done was illegal. She'd assassinated two men rather than attacking in self defense, but he knew there wasn't a single person in the basement who wasn't silently cheering over the Mechanic's actions.

"Everyone go about your orders," Jim commanded when the weight lifted from his shoulders as though he'd made a firm decision on the matter.

"Captain Kirk," Spock began only to be interrupted by the captain.

"Don't even start spouting regulation at me. Find Jiet Je Jong and the scrambling device so our equipment can function here."

Bones picked his way through the rubble of broken antiques and android bodies, pausing on his way to the hide out to squeeze Jim's shoulder. "Down South we got a different kind of backwoods justice, Jim. You know someone's a killer that might walk because of some namby pamby loophole, you take care of it," he said, his southernism closer to the surface.

"Now all I have to do is convince Spock to leave it out of his report."

The hours that followed were some of the longest of his life. People's wounds had to be tended. Starfleet personnel had to be pronounced dead and bagged and tagged for autopsy. Evidence had to be gathered to submit to the Federation. Jiet Je Jong had to be located. The man was found locked up in one of the bunker's back rooms looking as though he hadn't seen a bath in months and littered with bruises and various cuts that seemed to be getting infected. Jim promptly exclaimed he'd known all along the missing scientist had been kidnapped, an announcement that was greeted by disbelief until the captain explained the wilted plants and its connection to Murphy's Law.

Keeping an eye on Spock and Jim while they raided the bunker was also a prime directive. How it was possible for two men to buzz from room to room so quickly without a single shot of espresso was a mystery. He had a feeling keeping up with them, seeing as how he was older and would inevitably wear down faster than them in the future, was going to be murder on his old man joints when they both insisted on creaking around the Enterprise when they were ninety. Spock was the one who found the device that scrambled their technology. Like any good science officer, he had to ogle the equipment for an hour before figuring out how to turn it off and free it from its metal housing for further study.

Then there was Scotty chirping in their ears about gathering samples of the androids for study. It was purely in Scotty's best interest that he found himself in one of the labs containing half-built androids helping Jim and Spock figure out how to unhook them. Had nothing to do with remembering the excitement on Ritha's face when he'd found her examining the Mechanic they'd first brought down. Right, he snorted to himself. He had a piece of swamp ground to sell himself if he thought wanting to see that palpable excitement again had nothing to do with it.

That was all before they were able to beam back to the madhouse that was the Enterprise. Bones knew a whole new form of "git 'er dun" as soon as he was ensconced in Sickbay where he could start helping Doctor Westin and Nurse Chapel process the patients he'd stabilized and sent back. Stella most certainly earned her position as a respected fellow doctor during those long hours. Hell, as far as he was concerned, Chapel may as well have gone ahead and enrolled in medical school so he could count her work in Sickbay as credit hours earned.

Being locked away in a microcosm meant he had no idea what was going on outside Sickbay. In fact, he hadn't even seen Ritha to know that she was all right, but at least he knew Scotty would have her butt in Sickbay if she weren't. That allowed him to buckle down and focus instead of his head drifting while he worked. All he had to do was keep moving, keep giving injections and performing operations when absolutely necessary, and eventually the hectic pace would die down.

A perpetual state of irritation was slowly engulfing him just from the sheer man hours involved with mopping up after such a large battle. He kept a tight lid on that irritation when in Sickbay, but there were only so many stomachs he could thrust his hands in without nerves fraying in the process. One thing became crystal clear. Nurse Gimbel was getting tossed off the Enterprise as soon as they could arrange a transfer and make port, because if that man stepped on his foot one more time or dropped another item, Bones fully intended on drop-kicking him off the Enterprise.

By the time he had a chance to take a breather, his uniform shirt was soiled with so much blood even he thought he might get sick from the sight of it, and the sight of blood hadn't bothered him since his early med school days. Bones took the opportunity to duck into his office to change his shirt, grab some coffee, and try to dissipate the fatigue and irritation without needing to be prodded in there by Westin and Chapel. The soiled shirt had just been dropped on the floor so he could grab a fresh one from a stack he kept in his office when the sound of his door sliding open made him flinch and tighten every muscle in his body. A guy couldn't even get a ten minute breather to change his shirt without something going wrong, he thought in exasperation.

"Give me a second to change and grab some coffee. If it's an emergency, flag down Doctor Westin," he said.

"Take your time, Babe. I'm rather enjoying the view," Ritha said.

"Ogling a man who's dead on his feet," he muttered under his breath, but he was certain the relief was evident on his face when he tugged his shirt in place and turned around to get a look at her. By the looks of her, she hadn't even taken the time to change into a clean uniform yet, still had smears of blood and grit on her face from the battle. None of that mattered to him. All he saw was a woman who didn't have any telltale splotches of blood denoting an injury.

"You can't blame a girl for looking."

He wasn't certain why the flippant comment grated on his already frayed nerves. Maybe he'd been expecting to hear something other than the fact she liked his body. Maybe it was just the tension of spending the past six hours with his hands inside the bodies of his comrades. Whatever the reason, he snapped, "We both could have died out there, and the first thing out of your mouth is…"

She stopped his tirade when she said, "Shut up, Babe, and get your ass over here. I didn't come here to start another blow out like the one we had when I suggested being part of the mission team."

Forgetting that blow out was impossible. He'd been totally against her taking part seeing as how she hadn't even fully recovered from being tortured by that sick bastard. Snapping his mouth closed, Bones rounded his desk, eternally grateful for the fact that Ritha had a thick skin and never seemed to take his irritableness seriously, unlike some people on his staff he knew.

"Were you hurt?" she asked when he didn't comment.

"No, you?"

"Nope. You look like Hell, Babe."

"So do you," he responded while wiping away some of the grit on her face.

So much tension and fear over the last couple of weeks were offered respite from when her lips came to his. She didn't make him initiate it, didn't bat her eyes coyly or get disappointed when he didn't cross the distance between them. Ritha just cupped the nape of his neck and took what she wanted. Flattening his palm against her cheek, he molded their mouths together to deepen the kiss, his eyes sliding closed. Somehow, she had the power to make the rest of the universe disappear for a few brief moments, to make all the bloodshed and death take a back seat. It was all still there waiting for him, but right now, he wanted one moment to forget it all. She gave him that moment without expecting romance, candlelight, and flowers. Goddamnit, he was a goner!

***

Steam and the overpowering scent of melting metal wafted up from a large bubbling cauldron in the smelting factory the Mechanics had claimed as their home base. Jim, standing on a catwalk which granted access to the top of the cauldron, looked out over the people gathered on the factory floor. Mechanics and Organics were packed tightly together. Members of his crew mingled openly with the Mechanics. The more empathic of his crew did what they could to comfort the sorrow of their metal brethren when Voren's body was brought up by two Mechanics.

Brethren. That word caught in his mind and had his chest puffing up with pride for his crew. No one had ordered them to be so accepting of sentient machines. He hadn't issued any directives for them to make the Mechanics welcome, but there they were being brought together by another one of those universals; grief had a way of leveling the playing field. Everyone understood grief. Every sentient being he'd ever run across knew grief.

His glance drifted to the row of body bags. Each bag contained one of his dead crew members in their dress uniforms, and his heart lurched. Keeping the bodies in cold storage until they happened to pass close enough to Earth to return their remains to their families was impractical. Most bodies were consigned to space where they lived and died, their identification and personal effects being returned to their family. Jim had decided to break with that tradition in this instance and allow their bodies to be burned along with the bodies of the Mechanics, a symbol that, though their internal structures were different, they were also the same.

Arta, her voice wavering, said to the crowd, "Today is a good day, my brothers and sisters. Today, Voren's dream of a coalition between Mechanics and Organics has come to fruition. We stand beside our Starfleet brothers and sisters and know that the sacrifices we have all made together have meant something."

"This coalition won't end when we leave Istabul Major," Jim took over for her. "Your struggle to maintain independence and equality with the Organics of this planet won't be forgotten. On behalf of the USS Enterprise and all her dedicated crew, I promise this."

"As a symbol of our continued cooperation, let our Mechanic and Organic brothers and sisters find their eternal rest together."

Arta nodded to the Mechanics bearing Voren's body. Standing at the edge of the catwalk, they tipped the stretcher, allowing his body to slide into the molten metal. The heat consumed him. Only then did Spock and Bones come forward bearing one of the many body bags to be slid into the cauldron. Organic and Mechanic mingling together in death the way everyone hoped they could mingle in life.

Jim watched as each body was bought forward, felt each gurgle as the bodies slid into the cauldron in every fiber of his being. Each sound meant another crew member wouldn't be returning home to their family. It meant another letter he would have to write home to waiting families to inform them their son, daughter, brother, sister, father, or mother simply hadn't made it. Starfleet and Spock were wrong. A captain's greatest strength wasn't in being able to face certain death while remaining calm; it was living through certain death and shouldering the responsibility of lives lost under his command. He understood that now in a way that had escaped him before.

After consigning the remains to the smelting vat, everyone was invited back to the Enterprise for a wake the likes of which only Scotty could organize. That meant Sickbay would be hopping the following day as people came in for hangover treatments, but for now, Jim was content to sit back and watch everyone drink away the grief and tension. Poor second shift station crew. They weren't allowed to get hammered like everyone else, had to stay sober so the ship could function if, God forbid, another catastrophe arose.

The party room on the entertainment deck was thumping with the heavy bass of some electronic music that was so favored when Jim parked himself against a wall with a beer in his hand to watch the crowd. Once he had a few beers in his system, he'd shove his way into the middle of the crowd, but for now, he was content to watch the Mechanics learning how to dance. Seeing Jong Je Jin, whose father was still recovering in Sickbay, try to take part in some new line dance everyone seemed obsessed with had him laughing. What pleased him the most, however, was witnessing Ritha dragging Bones onto the dance floor for a slow dance. That needed to be recorded for posterity as far as he was concerned. The man had finally pried his balls loose from Jocelyn's bear trap.

Spock and Nyota's presence next to him pulled his attention away from the dance floor. He looked up at the pair with a questioning expression. "Please tell me you didn't lace his drink with chocolate, Uhura."

"Do I look like the type of person who would purposefully get him drunk? I think not," she responded in a tone of voice that said she was cross with him for some reason.

"We merely came to inform you we were retiring for the evening and convey our gratitude for your efforts to convince Starfleet Nyota should remain aboard the Enterprise. Nyota received word this morning their decision was being reversed."

"Yeah, they sent me a transmission too saying the same thing. Hey, it was purely selfish on my part. There's no way I want to lose someone as talented as you, Uhura. Besides, I kind of like Spock."

"I heard all about how you tried to tempt Spock into getting me transferred off the ship. What was it you said? Something about one word from Spock and you wouldn't lift a finger to convince Starfleet to keep me on the Enterprise?"

Jim's brow flattened, his eyes narrowing before saying, "Do you have to tell her everything? I was just testing him to make sure he understood the kind of hard decisions you would both have to make as parents on the Enterprise."

"I believed such was the case when I made mention of it to you, Nyota. The captain was merely assuring himself we are both ready to face the challenges of rearing our offspring on a starship."

"Oh," she said as though the wind had been taken out of her sails. "Thank you, Captain Kirk, for intervening on our behalf."

"You know what? I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Uhura. You're both welcome. I'm not going to lose either of you over this. Now go retire, and don't dent the wall with the headboard of the bed!"

Spock clearly didn't understand the innuendo lacing that comment. "Jim, the beds are bolted to the floor. Denting the wall with the headboard would require purposefully unscrewing the bolts."

"I'll explain it to him, Jim," Uhura said with a smile. She slipped her arm around Spock's, and both left the party room.

A shudder passed through him. Uhura was going to have a kid. The thought curdled his stomach when visions of an overprotective communications officer hopped up on pregnancy hormones and maternal instinct assailed him. Still, he was happy for the couple. He sure wished they'd waited to reproduce until after their five year mission, but things rarely worked out the way people planned them in space.

He'd just drained the last of his first beer when Stella approached, offered him another beer, and said, "I'm surprised you're not out there on the dance floor. You okay?"

"Yeah, just taking it all in." He accepted the beer from her and popped the cap off to swig from it.

"What's going to happen to Arta?"

"As far as the report is concerned, the ex-emperor and his would-be-tyrant son were killed in a shoot out at the mansion. Spock's report says the same thing. We all know they would have tried again as soon as we left Istabul Major. These people and this planet wouldn't be safe if they were alive."

"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing. Laws are great and should be obeyed, but when loopholes get in the way of protecting billions of people, something needs to be done."

"So you don't think I'm a vigilante?"

There was a soft smile on her lips when she settled her fingers on his forearm and said, "We could just call you Superman."

Jim barely managed to get his swallow of beer down before laughing. "Nah, Superman is boring. I prefer Batman." There was a slight break in the conversation before he continued. "So are you going to go on a date with me or not?"

"Yes, Jim," she responded. "You're not going to stop asking until I agree anyway, so I may as well just get it over with."

A small pout formed on his lips. "As if going on a date with me would be such a terrible thing."

"Depends on who you ask. Lucky for you, I don't believe in listening to what gossip says about other people. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'm the captain. That means I'm always okay."

"I believe that like I believe my hair is pink. Just because you're the captain doesn't mean you have to be all right all the time. That's what you have Spock and Bones for. That's what you have me for."

Jim caught hold of a tendril of her hair and gave it a light tug before responding, "Don't worry about it. Spock has a way of forcing me to be fine whether or not I want to be, so I'll be okay."

"Good, because I'd hate to have Bones shove his gigantic medical code up your backside."

Honestly, he had no idea why that struck him as so funny, but Jim was suddenly laughing, laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall to keep from losing his balance. "His," there was a short pause, "medical code," another short pause, "isn't that big."


	19. Chapter 19

Epilogue

Ritha and Bones didn't have much time to devote to each other during the month that followed Tobra and Tien's deaths, not when there was so much work to be done around the Enterprise and the planetary infrastructure. Killing the pair had left a hole in the government structure that couldn't be replaced by just anyone. New elections had to be organized. Background checks on the candidates had to be completed to make sure none of them were imperial loyalists. On top of that, repairs on the Enterprise, slowed down by the chaos that had been Mission Kill The Tyrants, had to be completed.

In short, they were both too busy to do more than acknowledge each other in the hallways while rushing through on some errand. There was no time to even consider how she felt about him or he about her. It wasn't as though she'd magically fallen head over heels for him when they were so busy they couldn't think straight, but there was something there, some insane sense of need that went deeper than animalistic desire. She recognized the signs of a burgeoning infatuation if for no other reason than the wistful smiles Stella commented on whenever they had the opportunity to share lunch together.

There was one relationship that was definitely progressing. Sure, they still had their arguments about Mom and Dad. Nothing was going to magically fix their separated loyalties. They didn't suddenly trust each other to share their darkest fears and secrets, but there was definite progress on that front, something that made Ritha insanely happy. She was an older sister again, with all the rights, responsibilities, and protective instincts that went along with it.

More than a month after their initial landing on Istabul Major, the USS Enterprise was finally space-worthy again and made her launch from the dry dock with much fanfare from the locals. Arta and all the Mechanics came out to wish them well. Jong Je Jin, officially registered as one of the constituents in the new elections, and his father stopped by to convey their gratitude. In short, it was a good way to reenter the danger that was space. However, they weren't immediately set to depart orbit, not when they had to wait for a Federation convoy to arrive that would bring specialists to help strengthen the planet's government.

Another reason to celebrate came when Jim announced a promotion ceremony to be held on the ship's entertainment level. Crew members packed themselves into rows of chairs brought in from the mess hall to witness Ensign Pavel Chekov and Ensign Aritha Monroe--due in large part to Jim, Spock, and Scotty championing her to Starfleet to get them to push a promotion through--become junior lieutenants. Jim, being the cool cat Ritha knew him to be, had promptly given everyone aboard the ship a chocolate gold coin while stating that every member of his crew deserved recognition for the mission. It was nice to not have to worry about Starfleet yanking her back to Earth, but she really didn't consider anything she'd done on the planet exemplary.

As soon as the ceremony was over, Bones dragged her to his sumptuous quarters for a little private celebration involving dinner, some Scotch, and his bed. One thing was certain; ensigns got the short end of the stick when it came to beds. She'd have to permanently date him just to have access to his freaking mattress. A soft sigh of contentment escaped Ritha, her fingers petting the forearm Bones draped around her waist to feel the slight flex of muscle and whorls of hair. His warmth behind her as they lay spooned together was like a sauna relaxing pleasantly used muscles. Snuggling wasn't something she'd been into in the past, but he was certainly making her fond of it the longer he simply held her, each lost in their own catatonia. Another soft sigh and she turned over in Bones' arms to nuzzle his shoulder, a naked leg draping over his hip.

"Good God, Woman, again? You're going to kill me," he said, but there was a chuckle in his voice that said he wasn't serious. As if he minded her appetite.

"Shut up, Babe. My other side went to sleep, so I had to roll over. Besides, you didn't hear me complaining yesterday when you attacked me in your office and then later on in the holodeck."

"Maybe we should confine our extracurricular activities to our quarters after that one. The nurses still haven't stopped snickering. I have a reputation to think about, Junior Lieutenant Monroe!"

"Poor baby," she said in a pouting voice while nuzzling his chin. "Three of your nurses have personally thanked me for putting you in a good mood. I guess that means I'll have to stick around for the rest of the Enterprise's first five year mission."

"Good, because I was thinking of asking you…" Whatever Bones was about to say was cut off by the chiming of his video conference communicator in the living room. The man grumbled something unintelligible before saying, "Hold that thought."

Ritha missed his warmth when he disentangled himself from her to roll out of bed, leaving her to wonder what he'd been planning on asking her. The palpable sound of his excitement when he answered the call put a smile on her face, as did the chiming of a child's voice from the other end of the call when she cried, with all the exuberance of a five year old, a hello to her father. Easing out of bed, she pulled his robe on to pad to the bathroom, pausing in the open doorway long enough to catch a glimpse of the girl on the monitor. Joanna McCoy looked so much like her father no paternity test would be necessary. Ritha's smile bloomed brighter. Leave it to her father to be able to call in enough personal favors to make Jocelyn start to see reason.

Life was good aboard the Enterprise, at least until Murphy's Law struck again.

END

* * *

A/N: That's it. Hope someone enjoyed reading it, and if anyone is interested in reading other stories from me, let me know.


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